


The Riddle

by Currentofsass



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Background Relationships, Bullying, Growing Up, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), sexual slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-26 17:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 69,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3858871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Currentofsass/pseuds/Currentofsass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Alfred was young he received a riddle from his dying grandfather. As time passes, his probable answer to that question changes, a lot. How does his brother and a certain Briton impact it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Riddle

The year was 1995 and the world already seemed to be mourning what it hadn’t even lost yet. It was pouring rain, large, angry teardrops that stung any exposed skin. Dark clouds veiled the sun completely so lonely shadows were hidden away. The wind cried out for a comfort it wasn’t going to find.  
That was the day I received it; the riddle.

Mom had her hood pulled tightly over her head and was practically sobbing as she dragged Matthew and me into Grandpa's hospital room. Willingly following her, I was in too much shock to comprehend really anything else. It felt as though he had been dying for forever by then. He had been in and out of the hospital for two years straight and to an eleven year-old that’s pretty much forever.   
Echoing off the tiled floor, the sound of my mom’s heels clicking down on the ground seemed to fill the silence in my head. At least it gave me something to focus on as the realization of why I was there began to sink in more and more. My grandpa was laying in some old hospital bed dying. My big, strong grandpa who could lift Matthew and me both up onto his broad shoulders at the same time. The World War II veteran who was invincible, fearless. Grandpa who told me about how he had saved lives.   
My hero was dying and I just about couldn't handle it.  
Mom stopped so suddenly in front of us that I walked straight into her back. Her voice shaking, she calmly said between breaths, "I'm Amelia Jones. I would like to see Samuel Williams." My heart pounded in my chest, about to break into a million pieces.   
After a short pause, a male voice responded back kindly, "He's in room 221b. Second floor." My mom muttered an inaudible, "Thank you," and continued to drag Matthew and me behind her. Pulling us into an elevator, she let go of us for a second to press a button and then turn around to face us. Taking one of our hands in each of hers, her eyes bounced back and forth between us.  
"Now," she began slowly, steadying her voice. Makeup ran down her face in dark, solemn smears. She really didn't need it, her dazzling, blue pools of ocean water that shone with life and gave off such happiness, but could turn vicious when she needed them to. Her wavy, golden rye-coloured hair fell in a neat bob near her jaw. Freckles dotted across her cheeks like paint splatters. To me, she was the most beautiful woman in the world and was the absolute last person to ever need makeup.  
"He's not going to recognize you when you get in there, okay?" She continued again looking at the two of us. The door to the elevator had closed and we were being slowly hauled upward. "He barely remembers me, so don't make him feel bad about it and don't take it to heart. Try to comfort him. He loves talking about how he's a veteran. Just ask him about something happy." She sounded more like she was talking to herself more than us.   
"We will, Mom," Matthew said quietly, his voice shaking. I nodded and replied, "I'll try to make him happy." She only nodded and turned around and grabbed our hands again as the elevator doors opened again.   
Stepping back out onto the tiles, we were practically dragged once more down the hall. "221b...221b..." Mom muttered over and over again to herself. The hallway seemed to never end, it was an endless series of doors with numbers and letters with people darting in and out of them like ants in an ant farm. Finally, she stopped again and took a deep breath. "Are you ready? It might be a little scary and sad, but you two are big boys, right?"  
"Yes, Mom," we replied in unison, knowing what she wanted to hear. Nodding, she simply said, "Okay, now, just follow me in." With that, she let go of us, turned the door knob and walked into the room as though she owned the entire building.

A year before, I wouldn't have recognized my grandfather in the state he was in. His usually white greased back hair had fallen out completely, leaving an empty, dull canvas of a head in its place. His usually bright, life filled purple orbs had become a light periwinkle colour that seemed lost and icy. More hair had sprung up in his ears and eyebrows making him look like an odd elf of some sort. His mouth sat agap revealing that his teeth were gone, leaving just mushy, pink gums. Wrinkles covered his once ageless face and dark circles were strikingly visible under his deep set eyes. I had never seen him look more old.  
The clicking of Mom's heels caught his attention and he turned his head away from my Uncle Sam, whom had arrived earlier, and my great aunt Susanne, the youngest of their twelve siblings and only one of the two that were still alive.  
A wide, toothless grin spread across his face as he caught sight of her. "My little Earhart!" He exclaimed, weakly. Matthew and I followed cautiously behind her hoping that maybe, maybe, Grandpa would still know us. "You're so old! I swear you were just ten years-old the last I saw you!"  
Mom smiled her forced smile and laughed her fake laugh. No one could tell the difference between her real and fake smiles or laughs unless they knew her for years. She was just good at making people happy.  
Keeping her facade plastered to her face, she cheerfully chirped back, "Pa, I've missed seeing you. How are you doing?"  
He chuckled a bit and almost sadly replied, "I feel like death." Uncle Sam glanced at great aunt Susanne, but no one commented on it; Grandpa had caught sight of Matthew and me. "Brought more curious listeners, I see." Looking at each other for a half a second, we nodded and cautiously made our way to his bedside.  
Grandpa smiled at us, happily, giddily, genuinely. Everyone knew his love of storytelling. He could go on for hours talking about what he and his siblings did as children or just making stuff up. His imagination and curiosity never left him, even at the end.  
"What do you youngsters want to hear about?" We hadn't thought about what to ask him, but we knew anything would have made him happy as long as he felt like someone cared about it. After a panicked, awkward pause, Matthew piped up saying, "Sir, can you tell us about what made you happiest in life?" Coming from a ten year-old, it was quite deep and probably took most of the adults in the room by surprise.  
A glimmer shone somewhere inside him as the sentence was finished. He smiled a bit wider and licked his lips. "Boys, I can name thousands of times that something or someone made me happy, but nothing made me happier than Molly.  
"Molly was the love of my life. Stubborn, hot headed, and if she had her mind set to it, nothing in this world would ever stop her. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. She was the one thing that really got me through the war. That gal could listen to me for hours and some how prevented me from getting too big a head. Kind, sweet, loving Molly," he sounded wistful, almost as though he were in some other place.   
"She loved children, wanted a house full of them. I wanted to make her as happy as she made me. We got married the year after the war ended and the next April, Sam was brought into the world. He was the tiniest baby I ever done saw." A chuckle escape from his lips before he continued on. "Unfortunately, the house never became as full as I think she would have liked it too. I delivered seven babies in my day...only two of them lived. Amelia was born, oh, about fifteen years after Sam. I swear, Molly loved them both more than she loved herself, and I always got the feeling that she would have wanted more young ones to look after.  
"But she accepted and loved the ones she had and eventually that became the most she could have ever hoped for. She did everything for them. Baked cookies before they got home from school, figured out how to help them with their schoolwork, knitted them gloves and such in her free time. She was the most beautiful thing in the world to me. Her bright blue eyes and wavy golden hair. She could light a room up just with her smile. She was smiling until the..." He trailed off.  
I remembered the day grandma died. The world was darker than it was there in 1995 and the snow was coming down so hard that it was beginning to cover up the window. Mom had come home crying. At first I didn't understand, until I tried calling Grandma to talk about it, she was a great listener and had the best advice. Grandpa picked up. His voice was shaky and hollow and he told it to me straight. I dropped the phone and flopped on my bed crying. Matthew was four and didn't get why it was so bad, saying that she was in a better place. He would never miss her like I would the first couple years.  
Grandpa recovered quickly, asking us gently, "Now, tell me about what interests you so much. What makes you two happy?"  
"I like polar bears," Matthew started quietly. His hands were shaking and he was blinking hard. "I also really like hockey. Sometimes I stay up to watch it even though Mom tells me not too." Grandpa laughed, amused by Matthew's childish honesty. Turning a bit, he said to our mother, "Where did you find these two?" She didn't respond, as I replied, "Well, I like science! In school, they sometimes talk about planes, and I like planes too. What I really like is learning about World War II."  
Grandpa smiled a bit more. "You know, I'm a veteran from World War II." He started rambling about some of his old bunk mates, bits and pieces of stories I had heard millions of times before. Usually I listened happily but now other things had my attention. Mom was crying again, silently to herself as she listened to Grandpa ramble. Great aunt Susanne had her hand over her mouth, puffy eyed and cheeks red. Uncle Sam looked in pain, as though someone were driving a stake through his chest.  
Matthew had my attention the most. He had grabbed on to my arm for comfort as the tears started spilling out of his eyes. The redness of his face looked odd and it did weird things to the colour of his naturally hyacinth irises. I was always jealous of how much he looked like Grandpa. I looked a lot like my dad according to everyone who knew him. Same shade of blond hair, same face shape and ears. Thankfully my eyes were some shade a blue like Mom's but I could see the far off, pained look in hers that she got when she stared at me for too long.  
Just a month after Mom got pregnant with Matthew, my dad walked out on us. I was still an infant so I don't remember really anything about him or why he left, just that he made Mom sad for a long time. She filed the divorce papers and he at least showed up for that. For some reason, Mom kept his last name though, Jones. I guess she loved him too much to change it.   
Almost exactly a year after I was born, Matthew was too, on July first of 1984. My first birthday was three days later on the fourth and Grandpa and Grandma had taken me to the hospital as a surprise present of getting to meet my baby brother. To their surprise, they found that his last name wasn't Jones as Mom's and mine were, but instead was Williams. Apparently when he was born, Mom decided to give him her maiden name in lieu of my father's. I'm still not sure if what she did was legal or not, but nobody stopped her.  
Looking at Matthew, I slid my arm up so his hand fell into mine, a comforting hand holding that we didn't do often.   
Grandpa suddenly seemed to snap out of his rambling daze and looked me in the eyes. "Say," he said weakly. "What are your names?"  
"I'm Alfred and this is my brother Matthew!" I said, trying to still sound confident even though I was ready to start crying with the rest of them.  
"Alfred and Matthew," Grandpa said seeming to ponder on the words. After a long moment, he sighed and tried to sit up more. "Boys, I need to ask something of you. Will you do it for me?"  
We nodded in unison, trying to be as quiet as possible as his voice was beginning to fade. "Listen up, because I ain't repeating myself." He wouldn't have gotten the chance to anyway. "Here's a riddle for you, go find the answer; there's a reason for the world, you and I."  
We waited silently for him to continue or explain or give us more to work with, but he didn't. After a silent moment, great aunt Susanne managed, "Samuel?"  
"I'm still here," he said with an odd finality. Another moment passed before he spoke again. "Now, will someone do their dear Uncle Sam a favour and turn out the damned lights?"   
And with that, he was gone.

Matthew and I didn't speak on the ride home. We didn't speak as we secluded ourselves in our shared bedroom. We didn't speak as we buried our faces into our beds and started crying. We didn't speak as we slept in the same bed that night trying to comfort the other while still trying to get support.  
There was an unspoken agreement not to speak about the riddle until we felt ready.

Only a week after Grandpa passed away, school ended. Matthew and I had both gone to the last week because it took our minds off things for a while. On the last day, Mom picked us up early. As we drove home, I piped up from the backseat, "Hey Mom?"  
"Yes, sweetie?"  
"What do you think Grandpa meant by his riddle?" There was a long silence until she reached a red light. She waited a few seconds before answering, "You both know that before people die, they're not always thinking straight."  
"But when he was telling us about Grandma, that was all true. He's told us before."  
Sighing, Mom replied drily, "I know it is. But you shouldn't worry too much about it."  
"We know," Matthew interjected. "But we just want to know what he meant by it." The light turned green and Mom turned the corner. There was a second long silence before anyone spoke again.  
"I think," Mom said sighing. "That he was asking you to figure about what the purpose of your world is. Why you were put here. But both of you are too young to have to worry about that." There was another pause before she continued again. "Don't let it get to you too much. Most adults don't even know their real purpose."  
Matthew and I got the hint not to push it more or talk about it, at least not in front of her. Instead, as soon as we got home, we raced outside to our hiding spot.   
"What do you think the answer is?" Matthew asked eagerly, plopping down into the dirt. Sitting down next to him, I scrunched my eyebrows together. "I don't know. Maybe if we try to pick one thing now, we'll find a better answer later on."  
"Yeah!" A bright curiosity shone in him. It was the second time I had seen him remotely happy outside of public that week. The first time was when he received an old white teddy bear and a pair of child sized ice skates out of Grandpa's will. I had gotten his old aviator jacket from World War II.   
After a moment, we looked at each other and he quietly said, "I think mine is to be kind to everyone."  
"Dude, that's so lame."  
"Well do you have a better idea?"  
"Yeah, I do actually. I'm going to be a hero!"  
"How?" Matthew folded his arms and gave me a hard glare. I hadn't really thought it through, but an idea came to me in just a couple seconds.  
"I'll join the army and be a pilot! I'll save lives just like Grandpa did!" Matt suddenly looked scared. He quickly reached out and grabbed my arm. "Al, you could die that way! Grandpa almost died several times and he told you that!"  
"But he didn't! And that doesn't even matter now, he's dead anyway.” Matthew became really quiet, dropped my gaze and let go of me. His fingers started busying themselves by playing with several pebbles near his feet. The silence started eating at me, making me feel worse and worse about my words, until I had to speak up.   
“That’s a long way off, Matt,” I said almost as quietly as he normally spoke. “I could change my mind by then.”  
“You better.” He sounded bitter. Why he was so upset about the whole thing, I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t like it. Kicking a couple of rocks into the tall weeds, I softly asked, “How else could I be a hero? I could be a firefighter and still risk my life, or a policeman and still end up dying.”  
Matthew was still silent. He stayed that was for about a minute. Randomly, he placed a stone into the centre of my hand and said, “I just don’t want you to leave me, Al.” We stared at each other for a long time, until I finally nodded.   
“It’ll be okay, Mattie. We’ll figure out this riddle one of these days.” Silence settled over us as we sat for a few seconds. It was the same noisy silence that you always got in the woods during summer, but this time it didn’t annoy me or eat away at me.   
“Wanna go play soccer?” I asked after a while. Matthew nodded and bounced up. “Race you back to the house,” he said not a half second before he took off sprinting.   
“Hey! No fair!” I yelled, taking off after him. 

That night, I remember not being able to fall asleep, thinking through how Grandpa, a hero, didn’t find the answer to the riddle. But if what Mom said was true, then he wouldn’t have been able to tell us the answer anyway. I settled on the idea that there wasn’t just one single right answer, but multiple, thousands and millions of varying answers.   
It was nearly pitch black out when I did doze off. My last thoughts about how if Grandpa found the answer by being a hero, so could I. That was the first part of the equation that would get me the my answer.


	2. The Batter Swings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mild Bullying

A week after school let out, he moved in down the street. In the whole time I had lived in the neighbourhood--which would be my whole life--maybe two new neighbours had moved in total. It wasn’t an exceptionally big neighbourhood, either. About fifty some houses, some were old and painted dully, but most were newer with families and children with bright coloured siding.   
Needless to say, Mom was excited. Two days after the moving van pulled into the driveway across the street and four houses down, Mom made down to their front door and introduced herself. She came back probably an hour or so later going on, and on about how interesting the family was. They had moved here from England and they had five boys. The oldest was seventeen, then there was three in the middle who were fifteen, fourteen and twelve and the youngest was about five. Mom said several times how she couldn’t think of how they managed a household like that and that the two of us were messy enough.   
A day later, I was walking down the street with a small box full of cookies. Mom decided to send me down there to make friends with the twelve year-old because apparently "he would make me behave better." In my defence, I hadn't gotten in trouble with any of the neighbours since about mid-May.  
Sighing, I jabbed my thumb into their doorbell and stepped back so I wouldn’t get hit by the door. From somewhere inside the house, a voice with an Irish accent called out, “Arthur get the door!” I could hear a muffled reply and someone run down a flight of stairs. The door flew open quickly and I stood there facing a boy about my age.  
He looked like he had just rolled out of bed or something by how messy his blond hair was. His grass green orbs held an irritation, and his bushy brows beetled. He had khakis and a long sleeve shirt on even though it was the middle of June.   
In that moment, I suddenly realized exactly how I felt about him.  
I hated him.  
“Come to welcome us to the neighbourhood?” He asked, sounding slightly annoyed.   
“Uh, yeah. My mom came by yesterday and...uh...she baked you cookies.” I held the box out in front of me. Gently, he took it from me then glanced back and forth between the red box and me.   
After a moment or so, he sat the box down on something behind the door and held his hand out to me. “I’m Arthur Kirkland. You?”  
Looking at his hand, then at him, I took it, squeezing it much too tightly and said, “I’m Alfred F. Jones!” As soon as I let go, he yanked his hand back and stepped away from me a little. He looked me over a couple times and asked, “Do you play football?”  
“Of course I do! Who doesn’t?”  
“Do you want to play with me?” In all honesty, I really didn’t. I wanted to just walk away right then and there and go home, but Mom would have been upset with me.   
“Sure,” I lied. He gave a me a quick half smile before looking over his shoulder and yelling behind him, "One of the neighbour boys is here and we're going to go play football, Mum!"  
A happy sounding voice called back, "Alright! Don't get yourself hurt now!" With that, he stepped out onto the porch and lead me to the backyard.

They had a little shed in the backyard. Apparently they had brought most of the smaller stuff over earlier so there was already stuff sitting neatly inside. Arthur walked to somewhere in the back to dig out a ball. I waited in the doorway getting more annoyed with him by the second.   
"Here it is!" he said after what felt like forever. About time, I thought, unfolding my arms. As he walked back towards me, I couldn't help but notice that he was carrying a soccer ball.  
"I thought you said we could play football," I stated, already annoyed with him.  
"I did."  
"Then why do you have a soccer ball?"  
"This is a football."  
"No, it's a soccer ball."  
The argument when on like that until I said, "Fine whatever. I'm just going to go home."  
"Why?"  
I paused for a moment. Should I tell him? It doesn't really matter anyways. Sighing, I rolled my eyes and said, "Because my mom forced me over here because she thought you would improve my behaviour or some crap like that."  
His face seemed to sink a bit. "Oh, I see." Why did he sound so defeated? "Fine then! I don't need you as a friend anyways!" The soccer ball made contact with my face. Not really thinking, and kind of stunned by the fact that he threw it at me, I picked it up and chucked it at him. It made contact with his stomach and I ran all the way home.

It was about three days after I first met him that I basically decided to start a war.   
Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio, three boys who lived down the street, came over and the four of us and Matthew sat in the backyard, bored. "We need something to do!" Gilbert whined, flopping on his back into the grass. He was going on fourteen and one of the oldest in his grade, so most people expected him to be more mature, but no, he could fit right in with the eight year-olds.  
"Well, we could go get back at that one British kid," Francis suggested, knowing about the soccer ball incident. At least I wasn't the only one who hated him from the get go.   
"But wouldn't that be mean?" Matthew inquired, though none of us listened to him.  
"Ja!" Gilbert sprung to his feet suddenly. His parents were from Germany, though he'd never been, so he spoke German quite often and for some reason he kept claiming to be Prussian, whatever that was.  
An idea creeped into my head and smiling a bit to myself, I suggested, "We could throw water balloons at him."  
The trio grinned at me. Everyone knew how much they loved water balloon fights. Matthew gave me a scared, nervous look, knowing better than anyone how this was going to end.   
Snickering to ourselves, the four of us made our way down to Antonio's with Matthew trailing behind us, not wanting to be alone. Antonio quickly sprinted into his room and came back out with three large bags of the balloons. A smile was plastered to his face as he laid them down in the grass at our feet. The second the bags hit the ground, Gilbert snatched one up and raced to a tap at the side of the house.  
"Gil, mon ami!" Francis called out, running after him. "Calm down! Wait for us!" Antonio and I followed after them taking the last two bags with us. Matt stayed in the same spot for several minutes before he slowly made his way over to us. By then we had more than a dozen balloons already tied and ready.  
Gilbert managed to fill his entire bag in about five minutes. A little over thirty balloons sat in a messy pile on the grass. Looking down at them, the four of us smiled at each other. There was a little pit in my stomach that made me doubt how good this plan actually was, but looking at how excited the other three were, I decided to ignore it.  
Gathering up about eight balloons each, we made our way back down the long street with Matt still cautiously at our heels. Unfortunately, Antonio lived in the absolute last house on the street at a dead end. Arthur's house was about a half mile away towards the middle of the line of houses.   
We had made the same walk millions of times before, but with the summer sun beating down on us it became more torturous by the minute. After what felt like an eternity of walking, the beige two story house finally came into view. Sneaking into the shrubbery that lined the back yards from several houses down, we tried to be as quiet as possible as we snuck up on our victim.  
Arthur sat in the middle of a single acre back yard. The green grass clashed against his red shorts. He had his nose in a book and mostly had his back to us. Francis snickered next to me as we crouched behind the bushes. Arthur must have heard because he looked back at our general location for a second. He made a move to get up and come closer, but suddenly a call came from inside for him.   
Glancing over his shoulder once, he brought his book inside and left us there in the bushes.   
"Well, crap," Gilbert said, probably trying to think of some stupid way to lure him back outside. I heard Francis sigh and Antonio muttered, "We could always just throw them at each other." Matthew looked mostly relieved, though part of him seemed actually disappointed.   
"So what now?" I asked looking over that them. Antonio shrugged, Francis made a face, and Gilbert mumbled something incoherent. We stayed in our little hiding spot for a while before we made a silent agreement that it wasn’t going to work out.   
Just as Antonio started to get up, the back door opened again. Antonio nearly fell down with how fast he moved to conceal himself again. “He’s back out!” Antonio whisper yelled in excitement. Moving myself slightly, I managed to get a clearer view of Arthur through the leaves. He had come back outside without his book and he was looking suspiciously towards the shrubbery. I smiled to myself at the thought of what was to come next.   
After several stilly silent moments, Arthur started making his way in our direction, eyeing it suspiciously as though he secretly knew we were there. He probably did. We weren’t exactly church mice.   
I held my breath a bit as he got closer. Just a few more feet and we wouldn’t have to worry about missing him. Why did he have to walk so slow? Was it really necessary to take such steady, careful steps? He was almost close enough to the bushes when he randomly asked, “Is anyone there?” If they weren’t before, the others were definitely holding their breath now.   
The world seemed to go completely still and an entire infinity passed. Just when I felt as though my brain might exploded from the overwhelming summer quiet, Arthur chuckled to himself. “Arthur, if there is someone hiding in there, they’re not just going to come right out and say it.” He had a point there, we weren’t and we all knew that far too well. He then muttered something like, “Might as well check anyway.” Before we knew it, he was two feet away from us and our muscles reacted before we could even think about it.   
I think Gilbert got the first hit on him, being so enthusiastic about water balloon fights. Francis and Antonio had bounced up the same time he did and were already throwing. Antonio doubled over laughing after two balloons because he found Arthur’s face so funny. Francis was mostly aiming for his face. I was just trying to make sure my balloons hit. He sure did move around a lot.  
I somehow ran out of balloons first, so I stooped down and stole two from Antonio. Chucking one, I watched at it exploded against Arthur’s side, bits of plastic sticking to his Union Jack shirt. Just as I let the second one go, he got hit directly in the face, moving his body slightly and making it miss. Are you serious? I thought, mildly disappointed that I hadn’t got to hit him again.   
Finally we decided to let him go. The second we did, he made a beeline for the house, soaked to the bone and pieces of plastic sticking to him in random spots. Antonio looked like he was about to suffocate with how hard he was laughing, while Francis and Gilbert looked quite satisfied with themselves. I’m not sure if the others heard, but Matthew quietly said, “That was really mean.” For some reason, I decided on ignoring him and went for stealing one of the last three water balloons from Antonio.   
“That was awesome,” I said, grinning. The look on Arthur's face when we came out from behind the shrubbery was priceless and I wished that I had had a camera with me. We helped Antonio up after a couple moments, he was chuckling and wiping at the corners of his eyes. “Okay, mis amigos, we should probably get heading back before someone--” The back door flew open suddenly, quickly gaining the attention of all five of us. Crap, I thought, panicked as I watched three guys step outside.   
The oldest looked about seventeen with broad shoulders and pretty long red hair. He had cold graphite irises and thick eyebrows as well, which seemed to run in the family by the looks of the other two. The next was probably somewhere around fifteen. He had light brown hair, large dark circles under his chartreuse eyes and a heavily freckled face. The youngest of the three wasn’t probably any older than Gilbert, Francis or Antonio. He had blond hair like Arthur’s but his was combed neatly to the side, though it seemed to fall in his face a lot. There wasn’t anything frightening about him, he was short and lean, but it was his muscular giants of brothers that made us worry.   
“Run,” I heard Gilbert get out, as we stood staring wide eyed at them. Grabbing Matthew’s wrist, we made a break for it through the underbrush. Thankfully we--meaning Francis, Gilbert, Antonio, and I--had done this several times before and knew where we were going and Matthew could easily keep up. After running through the absolute back of about five or six backyards, we cut through one of the front yards out onto the street where it was easier to run.   
"Where are we going?" Matthew called out, trying his best to keep up with me.   
"To the Fort! It's the closest!" Gilbert said looking back at us for half a second. We passed about two more houses before we made a detour into Gil's backyard. He basically jumped on the ladder, climbing like a spider monkey. He flung the hatch door open and we quickly followed him inside. Just a half second after Matthew pulled his feet up into the fort, Gilbert somehow yanked the six foot tall ladder up in with him and flung the little square door back into place.   
“Everyone here?” Antonio asked several seconds later. We glanced around looking each other over and each taking a personal roll call. All five of us stayed silent for several long drawn out moments before Gilbert asked, “Antonio, do you still have the extra water balloons?”   
“Yeah, I have them right...” he trailed off, his panicked grassy irises darted around the space, his eyebrows high. He dug through his short’s pockets a couple times before just pulling them out completely. “I dropped them.” he said, looking somewhere between embarrassed and panicked. Antonio had ran behind us all because he was the steadiest and fastest on his feet. He could easily look over his shoulder while running and could even run fairly quickly backwards as well. If anyone was chasing after us, he'd be the guy to warn the rest so we could all split up and meet back up somewhere else.   
We all looked at each other, anxious and panicked. "I-it shouldn't matter too much. Right?" Matthew asked nervously, fidgeting a bit with the hem of his t-shirt. The trio exchanged a silent conversation between themselves. Francis shrugged and looked over at Matthew. "If they happened to be following us, the balloons may be pointing them in the right direction to finding us."  
"But we should be fine," Gilbert interjected. "No one can find the Awesome Fort! We're practically invisible!" We really weren't.   
The Awesome Fort was extremely visible from the tree where it had been built. It was all white with a crudely painted, black eagle on one side. The whole thing was just a eight by eight square sitting on two large branches of an oak tree. Posters were plastered to almost every inch of the inside walls and patches of old carpet were sitting in different spots.   
There was a soccer ball sitting in one corner, along with a pile of card and a bag of balloons. A small table was pushed up against a wall and candy wrappers littered the floor. For some odd reason, there was a bicycle up there as well. When I asked about it, I got the simple response of, "It's complicated." There also happened to be several changes of clothes in there.   
After sitting in there for a good ten minutes without anything happening, we decided that maybe we really had lost them and that we had basically gotten away with murder.  
Boy, were we wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you can see, Al is a little shit and Matthew needs to be listened to more.


	3. ...And the Summer Flies

Thirty minutes after desperately running as though our lives depended on it, Gilbert made the decision to open up the hatch door and put the ladder back down. We had to help him because even though he had so easily pulled it in, it was a lot harder to try to work it back down.

"It won't fit, mon ami!"

"How did you get it in here anyway?" Antonio, Francis and Gilbert were trying to shove the ladder back down through the opening so it would fall neatly where it was supposed to be. But for some reason it was too wide and was now stuck.

"Here let me help," I said putting my weight on it as well, hoping that it would budge. It didn't. Matthew stood back watching us for several minutes before he suddenly spoke loudly, "If you can get it to turn it'll go down easier."

All four of our heads snapped in his direction. He stood there, becoming self conscious under our gaze, before saying again, "Just turn it." None of us responded so finally he walked over and quickly turned the ladder so the sides matched up with the corners of the square opening and easily slid the ladder down and placed it in its needed position.

The four of us just stared at him for a long moment before Gilbert randomly coughed. "Uh...thanks." He was looking at the ground, a light blush settling over his cheeks. Antonio came to his rescue with a, "How about we go to do something?"

"Sure," I responded, sounding happy though I was still a bit on edge.

"Of course!"

"Oui," Francis said, flipping his long blond hair over his shoulder. For some reason he thought long hair and speaking French would make him more interesting or something. Sure, he actually was French but he really seemed to flaunt it in everyone's face, unlike Antonio who accidentally switched over into Spanish without realizing it. He had moved here six years ago from Spain when his dad died. His mom wanted to be closer to her family, and so here they were.

"Okay," Matthews voice had gone back to its normal quietness again. "What do you have in mind?"

Antonio's face scrunched up for a second as he thought about it. "We could go play a game of soccer."

"Ja!" Gilbert was enthusiastic about pretty much everything that didn't have to do with school or staying in one place for too long.

"We can't, we have five people," Francis said, pointing out the obvious.

"No it's okay. I don't really want to play anyway. I can be the referee," Matthew said, glancing down at his shoes.

"Alright it's settled then!" I said, grabbing the black and white ball out of the corner. "Who's playing with who?"

"Antonio's on my team!" Gilbert yelled, swinging his arm around Antonio's shoulders. Francis sighed a bit, "Alfred and I will work together then."

"Okay, awesome!" I dropped the soccer ball down onto the grass below. None of us got the chance to even climb down before a loud voice boomed from somewhere inside the house. "GILBERT!"

He flinched and became suddenly tense. It took only a moment for us to realize what had happened. Gilbert's grandfather had found out what we had done. The back door slammed against the side of the house, flying open with such force that it probably could have killed a guy. "Oh no..." Gilbert muttered. His red eyes were wide and he looked paler than he normally did.

"Gilbert, down here, now!" he sounded somewhere close to furious and I was suddenly worried how Mom was going to react, considering how much she liked the Kirklands.

"Yes, Großvati," Gilbert said almost quietly, not looking up as he climbed down the ladder. His grandfather was somewhere over six feet tall with ice blue eyes, and blond hair that fell past his shoulders. He had been in some war years ago and wasn't someone you wanted to be on bad terms with.

We all felt the same timid, nervousness as Gilbert-to a lesser extent of course-as he stood in front of his Grandfather, shoulders slouched, frightenedly looking up at him.

"Stand up straight, I've taught you better than that," he stated, sounding relatively calm. There's always a calm before the storm.

Gilbert straightened up, obviously shaking a bit now. His grandfather looked him up and down, before asking, "Why are you shaking? Anything you care to tell me about?" Gil shoved his hands into his pockets and straightened himself just a bit more to make the shaking not visible. "Nothing comes to mind," he said in a hushed voice after a moment.

"Really?" The rising anger in his voice was apparent, and what was about to go down was dangerously close. "I think you might because four boys just showed up at our door saying you threw water balloons at one of them! Without him even knowing that you were hiding in the shrubbery! And apparently you ganged up on him!" Gilbert slumped again, looking like a kicked dog. "Yeah, I-"

In that moment, I decided that a hero also takes the downfall for his friends. Leaning out of the one window, I called down, "Sir, it was mainly all me! I was the one who convinced him to do it and brought him along!" I was making direct eye contact with him and I felt the terrible need to pull myself back into the Fort and hide forever.

"Alfred is there anyone else up there?" Why was he suddenly so calm?

"Yes, sir," I responded, feeling obligated to be overly formal and watch my every word. No wonder Gilbert's parents trusted him to basically raise him and his brother while they worked overseas.

"All of you go home. I'm calling your parents, this is unacceptable behaviour." Maybe Mom had been right about me needing someone to "improve my behaviour."

Silently the four of us climbed down the ladder, and did the walk of shame through the yard. Matthew didn't speak to me as we walked home, angrily glaring at his feet. From about two houses down, we could hear Gil's grandfather's voice booming though the words were inaudible. Guilt gnawed away at my stomach for getting them all into this. I was the hero! The good guy! I shouldn't be the one getting people in trouble.

When we walked through the front door, Mom was in the kitchen on the phone. "Uh huh..." By her tone, I could tell the person on the other line wasn't talking about anything good. As she saw us walk in and quickly said, "I'm sorry one second," and put her hand over the bottom of the phone. Her eyes turned cold and she said through clenched teeth, "Bedroom, now." Then the phone was back up to her ear.

"Sorry, the boys just came home..." The two of us climbed up the stairs to our bedroom. Matt sat on the floor, playing with the carpet. I laid on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, anxiously waiting for Mom to come in and give us our punishment.

"I hope you're happy with yourself," Matt said after a while.

"Well I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not." He went quiet again and I could still hear Mom's muffled voice from downstairs.

"I'll explain to her that you didn't do anything and that you tried to stop us." Matthew just nodded, obviously angry with me. He always didn't talk to people he was mad at.

Sitting up and looking out the window, I tried to find something to distract myself with to make the guilt go away. It almost worked for a while until I saw Gilbert run by. His grandfather was making him run laps down the street.

Our neighbourhood was a single, mile long street that turned out onto one of major roads. There wasn't much traffic most of the time and everyone left and came home around the same time.

A hand of regret tightened around my stomach as I watched him run. It was my fault that he was running. I should have just left the subject alone when Francis suggested going to get back at Arthur. We could have just had a water balloon fight ourselves and left him out of it. But no, now Gilbert was running down the street, Francis and Antonio we're doing who knows what, and Matthew and I were slowly awaiting our death sentence. Wow, you screwed up. My thoughts weren't helping me out.

There was a knocking at our door, and Mom stepped in, arms folded over her chest. "So I hear you boys have been busy." There was no masking calm to her voice. Nothing trying to mask how much her blood was boiling at that point.

"Mom, Matthew didn't do anything! He told us to stop and not do it but we didn't listen and I suggested the idea and so I should really be in more trouble than the others and Antonio threw, like, one balloon and it missed so he shouldn't be in trouble either and-"

"Alfred, stop." Her voice was unnaturally firm, and I suddenly went mute in response. Pinching the bridge of her nose and sighing, she looked down at Matthew and irritatedly asked, "Is what your brother said true?"

He looked at me, a sorry, guilted look. "Yes," he said quietly after a moment. Mom sighed again then muttered, "Matthew, please go to the living room. I need to have a word with your brother." He got up and quickly left the room. Mom watched him go, leaning in the doorway, blocking off my only escape. Unfolding her arms, she looked at me.

"I'm very disappointed in your choices right now." I looked down at my feet that were hanging off the bed. I couldn't really blame her there.

"Why on earth did you think that would be a good idea? Did you think it would be funny or that'd he'd play along with it?" She staring intensely at me, waiting for my response.

"I don't know why I suggested it." She sighed once more and stepped further into my bedroom. "You're grounded. One month. I won't cancel your birthday party, but there will be more chores and you're going to be doing school work, got it?"

How badly I wanted to object to it, but I just nodded along and muttered, "Got it." She gave me a final stare before turning to leave.

"I am also going to send Matthew and you over there to apologize to him. There will be no objections or complaints."

"Okay," I said, surprised by how small my voice sounded. With that she walked down stairs and repeated the last bit to Matthew.

Getting up, I kicked my bed frame, angry that I couldn't have thought things through more or have come up with something else, anything else. Now here I was, grounded and having to apologize to a guy I hated.

Several hours later, Mattie and I were walking down the street once again. I could barely make out Gilbert running in our direction, but I could see how red he looked. Man, that couldn't have been good for him. His grandfather's form of punishment was to basically put either him or his brother through a boot camp of sorts.

Turning into their driveway, Matthew started walking in front of me. He reached the porch first and rang the bell. I stood behind him, trying not to pity myself. The short, lean brother, with neatly combed hair opened the door. He looked us up and down and said nothing.

"Um...we're two of the kids that threw water balloons at your brother," I stated, feeling awkward and wanting to just run away. He simply turned around and yelled, "Arthur! Door's for you!" He had an odd accent that I couldn't place. I felt like I had heard one similar to it before but I couldn't place where.

After what felt like an infinity of waiting, Arthur finally showed up at the door. He glared at me for a second before looking Matthew over a couple times. Seeing an opportunity, Matthew said in his usual hushed tone, "Hi, I know we haven't really met, but I was there when my brother and his friends threw water balloons at you, and I'd like to say I'm really sorry for not stopping them. I hope you're okay."

Arthur just stood there looking at him as though he were insane. I decided I might as well speak if he wasn't. "And I'm also sorry for throwing water balloons at you and convincing my friends to do it as well." I tried to sound sincere, but I didn't really care how he felt about the whole thing. I felt bad because my friends were in trouble for my stupid decision.

He looked us over for a moment as the afternoon sun clawed at our backs. Finally he let out a breath and said, "I forgive you. I probably just reacted badly to it."

"No, you didn't. I did the same thing the first time Gilbert threw water balloons at me," Matthew said. Why was he actually trying to make him feel better? He didn't actually have to be nice to him.

He cocked a thick eyebrow. "Really? I thought you were friends at him." Arthur sounded genuinely surprised. How did he know who Gilbert was?

Matthew smiled shyly and said, "Well, we weren't at first. But eventually Al convinced him to give me a chance." Arthur looked me over a couple times, as if reconsidering something. "Do you guys want to come in and hang out?" The question was random, and I stood there for several seconds before I could think of responding.

"Sure!" Matthew said, excitedly. He wasn't grounded and could still hang out with any of the neighbour kids. Receiving an expectant look from Arthur, I half heartedly glared at him. "No, we're rivals," I said in a low voice. He didn't look surprised at my answer nor did he try to stop me as I walked home.

Walking through the front door alone, Mom called to me from the kitchen, "So how'd it go?" Can't you stay out of my business for five seconds?

"He said he forgave us and he invited us in to 'hang out' but I told him I was grounded." Flopping on the couch, I reached for the television remote, but remembered that being grounded meant no TV, which sucked because Ren & Stimpy was usually on around this time.

"Matthew decided to stay though," I added after a silence had settled. Listening to Mom walk into the living room, I sat up and stared out the window. She sat down in the chair and just stared at me for a while.

"Why don't you like him? If Matthew likes him, he's obviously alright." Sighing I looked over at her. She won't understand. Moms almost never do. I decided to just shrug and simply say, "I don't know, I just don't." It was Mom's turn to sigh as she got up and patted me on the head.

"Hopefully you'll come around one day."

I wouldn't for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who was able to update two days in a row! Whoa!   
> Please do not expect that to become a regular thing, it's not going to be.  
> Also I should warn you, dear readers, that they will not get together for some time. I enjoy slow building and there will be a metric butt-ton of it in this story.   
> On a side note there will be some very basic foreign language words throughout this but when I pull something kind of un common I will translate.  
> Such as now:  
>  Großvati--Grandpa (German)  
> Anyway thanks for reading!


	4. Did You Learn Anything

Matthew came home that night around seven. He was late for dinner by a couple minutes so Mom made me stay as he took his time on finishing. The whole time I wanted to rip my hair out and scream for him to shut up. He just kept going on, and on, and on about how cool Arthur was and how much fun he had playing soccer with him.

“He hadn’t heard of hockey before, but that’s okay. I think I’m going to teach him to play this winter. He thought it sounded fun.” Matthew was the only kid in the neighbourhood who played hockey, had since he was about five. Almost every winter he tried to teach someone else how to so they could play together. First time it had been me, but I couldn’t skate to save my life. Then he tried to teach some girl who lived down the street that we didn’t talk to much. Her name was Elizabeta or something like that. Gilbert had started acting all weird when he did and so Matthew stopped. The next winter he tried to teach the whole Trio, but they fooled around too much and wouldn’t listen to him. Then came Gilbert’s little brother, Ludwig, but he was clumsier than me and it was an utter fiasco. Last winter he tried to teach me again, and even though I could skate, I just couldn’t play hockey.

Snapping back into reality, I realized how strange Matthew’s story had became in the time I zoned out. “...about how he couldn’t see the fairies here. I’ve never seen fairies here either so maybe they just live back in England.” He stopped for a moment, looking as though he just accidentally spilled a bunch of secret government information. “Arthur told me not to tell anyone, so Al, you better not tease him about it!” Raising my arms in surrender, I quickly replied, “What makes you think I would?”

“Oh you know--”

“Boys!” Mom was giving a both a hard glare.

“Sorry,” we mumbled to each other looking down at the table. She let out a breath and said, “Now tell me more about Arthur’s magic, Matthew.”

“Well, he says he’s going to become a wizard one day and that is whole family is magic. He has a bunch of old books in his room about magic too. We made an agreement that he’d teach me magic to bring Kumajirou to life if I taught him hockey.” Mom shook her head and said, “You boys and you’re wild imaginations,” while I confusedly asked, “Kuma-who?”

“Kumaguru is the polar bear Grandpa gave me.”

“You named it?” It took me a few seconds to realize that he said a different name both times. “Wait didn’t you say Kumajirou the first time?”

“I called him that both times.”

“You said something--” Mom was glaring at me. I had been in enough trouble for one day so I decided to just shut up.

The conversation ended there and dinner finished a few minutes later. Putting dishes from the sink into the dishwasher, I couldn’t help but wonder why one guy that I hated had impacted my life so much all in one day.

That night I couldn’t sleep. I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling wondering about who had really messed what up. Maybe if Mom hadn’t tried to force the two of us together, I wouldn’t be grounded. If Matthew had spoken up, we wouldn’t have thrown the water balloons at Arthur. If Arthur wasn’t such a dislikable person then we wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.

After a while, I gave up on trying to pin it all on the others. Though I still felt like they had a fault in it some how, but the real problem in the whole thing was me. I was supposed to be there hero and I had messed up. Just as I started to drift off, I realized that to be a hero, I was actually going to have to try.

I was okay with that.

As it turned out, Gilbert had gotten grounded as well because he wasn’t allowed to come to  Matthew’s and my birthday party. He walked down to our house on the second of July and apologized to Matthew for being a day late for his birthday. Handing us both a wrapped present, he then said, “I got grounded for the water balloon thing, so I can’t come to your party tomorrow. And I can’t stay much longer than this, so bye.” He proceeded to run the whole way home.

Sitting down in the living room, we opened both our presents at once. Wide eyed, Matthew held up a large book, all on polar bears. "MOM!" he yelled, excitedly running upstairs. Quickly ripping the paper off of mine, I sat staring at the box laying in the wrapping.

"A model plane," I almost half whispered in awe. _How much did Gil spend on us?_ I wondered suddenly, looking more closely at the thing. _How did he know I even wanted this?_

I could hear someone walking down the stairs. Turning back, I saw Matthew with his nose in his book and Mom behind him, a hand on his shoulder, trying to prevent him from face-planting into the stairs.

Compared to what Gilbert had gotten me, none of the other presents were exciting at all. Okay, except for maybe the Gameboy Mom got me.

By the time August ended, I was basically ready to go back to school. At the end of July, I had discovered that one, Gilbert was grounded for the rest of summer, and two, Antonio had gotten shipped off to live on his grandparents' farm a couple towns over. Of course I still had Francis, but we got bored too easily and without the crazy ideas from the other two.

That left Antonio's older brother--who I didn't know well, but from what Antonio had told me, the two were nothing alike--Ludwig, who I knew wasn't anything like Gilbert, Elizabeta and some fifteen year old guy, who lived up the street and had green eyes and long blond hair. There was also Arthur but he wasn't exactly an option. So my last month of summer was spent between playing with Matthew and trying to entertain myself.

Before really anyone knew it, it was September first and I was getting up a whole two hours earlier than Matthew. While he was just starting fifth grade, I had my first day of middle school to look forward to. _It can't be all that bad, right?_ I thought as I walked to the bus stop at the end of the street. The guy with the blond hair lived in the house where the bus stop was. I'd never really talk to him before that day when I found him already waiting in his driveway.

"Oh! Like, hi!" he said as I got closer to him. Looking him over, I couldn't help but notice that he had a pink shirt on. "Hi," I said almost nervously as I stood a few feet away from him.

"You, like, live down the street, right?"

"Uh...yeah."

"Is your name Alfred?" a feminine voice behind me asked. I turned around to see Elizabeta walking up behind me. She was fifteen but just shorter than me by a couple inches. Her long, light brown hair fell down past her shoulders and her bottle green eyes seemed to glow in the early morning light.

Straightening up a bit I replied, "Yeah, I'm Alfred."

She gave me a smile, "Gil talks about you sometimes."

"He does?" This came as an utter surprise to me. I didn't really think that the trio thought much of me outside of when we hung out, much less talked about me.

"He told Feliks and I," she nodded over to the blond boy, "that you were the one behind the big water balloon mishap."

"Oh, yeah. That." How long would that be following me around?

"Hey!" Feliks suddenly said. "Like, speak of the devil." Looking over I saw Antonio and Gilbert running towards the bus stop with Ludwig walking a few yards behind them. Before either could stop, Gilbert crashed into Elizabeta and Antonio ran into the mailbox.

"Ha!" Gilbert exclaimed, jumping up. "I so beat you!"

"No fair," Antonio whined, still smiling. The two of them came over and stood by me as Elizabeta brushed herself off, muttering under her breath. Ludwig stood behind us by himself, not wanting to draw attention to him. I always forgot he was in my grade.

Antonio looked over at Feliks and randomly said, "I thought you got your driver's license."

"Oh, yeah! Well I totally wanted to but, like, the teacher said that I couldn't because I didn't pass the class. It was totally not cool. So now I have to retake the, like, entire class this summer."

"That sucks, _mi amigo_ ," Antonio said with a slight frown. Was Feliks seriously sixteen? He didn't look sixteen, just like Elizabeta didn't look fifteen. Maybe it was because they were both so short.

We hung around chatting for several minutes, Francis even showed up and we just added him right in. I almost completely forgot about school and all of summer until he showed up.

In the middle of talking about what would happen if Feliks got turned into a pony, Arthur had joined us at the bus stop and was standing there watching us, as if waiting for us to let him into our conversation. Francis was the first to notice him. When he did, his eyes narrowed into little slits and he hissed something that sounded like, "Black sheep of Europe."

"Frog," Arthur snapped back causing us all to look over at him. "Oh! Like, hey!" Feliks exclaimed obviously not realizing that the rest of us weren't making a move to talk to him. I suddenly felt guilty. Did the rest of them not like him because I didn't? Or was it because he was obviously hostile towards Francis? I couldn’t hold that much power in the mismatched group yet. Could I?

Thankfully no one got much else out because the bus pulled up to the end of the street and it was time to go to school.

The bus ride was unusually quiet compared to the screaming Kindergarteners that I was used to. Gilbert sat with me in the seat across from Francis and Antonio. Ludwig awkwardly sat with some kid in front of us. He had brown hair and darkened hazel eyes. There was an odd curl sticking out from his head. It took me a moment but I recognized him, Lovino Vargas. He glared at Ludwig and muttered something. I had forgotten that he was in my grade as well. Maybe I just pay that good of attention to them all.

Before I really knew it, we had driven the two miles to the school and the high schoolers were filing off. Apparently we stopped at the high school first and then went to the middle school, which I just found odd since there wasn’t that much farther of a drive to go to one or another first. Soon we were all getting off as well.

The day moved too fast. First hour blended into second hour, second hour somehow turned to third hour and, if it were a snake, fourth hour would have bit me. There was one thing that I noticed in the time of third and fourth hour, Arthur. He was in both of my classes. _Great_ , I thought sarcastically on my way to lunch, trying not to let the discovery put me in a bad mood.

Finally finding him, I sat down next to Kiku who had been my best friend for about five years at that point. He looked up at me, "Hello, Alfred. Are you having a good day?"

"Yeah, my day's been fine. What about you?"

"I made a new friend today in first hour. He said he might come sit by us later."

"Oh cool! What's his--"

"Alfred!" Jett called out, clapping me on the back. "Haven't seen ya all summer, now have I?"

I smirked at him. "How was the crocodile wrestling?" Jett had gone to Australia over the summer to visit his grandparents, which happened basically every summer, and he usually came back with a story to tell. That and we constantly joked about how he had developed an Aussie accent thanks to the trips.

"This one got a pretty good chomp outta my--"

A lunch tray was slammed down on the table. "I'm here!"

"Matthias!" Jett and I called, grinning at him. Eduard sat down next to him, not making a scene of it. Him and Kiku were the only quiet ones in our group and usually kept us from doing stupid things, though it didn’t always work out like that. Soon the jokes were flying and we didn't even notice as someone sat down next to Kiku.

“And then the potato said...” I suddenly zoned out, feeling a pair of eyes rest upon me. Looking over, I made direct eye contact with irritated, narrowed eyes. _What’s_ he _doing here?_

Kiku noticed Arthur the same moment, and almost loudly said, “I am sorry to interrupt but this is my new friend Arthur.”

“Hey Arthur,” Jett and Matthias said in almost perfect unison. I gave him a nod while Eduard gave him a simple, “Hello.”

“Arthur this is Eduard--”

“Hello.”

“--Jett, Matthias--”

“Nice to meet you.” Why was he so overly polite?

“--and Alfred.”

“We’re acquainted,” he said, sounding almost bitter about it. Eduard gave me a sideways glance and I shrugged a bit. They didn’t have to know about what happened this summer unless the limey--the word seemed to fit him--went ahead and told everyone.

“Right,” Jett said slowly. He turned back to Matthias and me and continued, “Did I tell you what happened with the kangaroos and the dingos?”

“No,” Arthur said, adding himself into the conversation.

Jett smirked a bit, “Right, so we were drivin’ down the street when we see this dingo come running towards us. Now that wasn’t really weird, but no, here after him comes five or six kangaroos. So we stop to watch it and they eventually catch it and they just start basically start beating it up. And I have never seen anything more unnatural than it.”

“Sure,” Matthias said, rolling his eyes. “Just like the time you hugged a shark.”

“I did!” There was more eye rolling and laughing from around the table. Jett was smirking like he always did when he knew fully well he was talking bullcrap.

Chuckling a bit I said, “Okay whatever, dude.” Kiku had a partial smile on his face and Eduard was grinning and shaking his head.

“I believe you,” Arthur said, sounding almost innocent. Jett’s face dropped a bit. “Oh, uh...sorry, mate. I was actually just joking around.” A pink tint creeped along Arthur’s cheeks.

The rest of lunch continued like that; us making our same stupidly lame jokes and Arthur trying to fit into a group where he obviously didn’t belong. Eventually, the lunch lady yelled at us to go to class and we all made our way back to our lockers, back into an unwanted reality.

As it turned out, Arthur was in my last two hours as well. It wouldn’t have been so bad, if they hadn’t been my two favourite classes and if he wasn’t making a point of trying to show me up. With every single question, he raised his hand to answer even if he didn’t actually know, each time throwing a glance back at me. Angrily gripping my pencil, I half glared down at my paper realizing that I was the one who told him we were rivals and he was trying to beat me at my own game.

If he wanted war, he had war.

The next day he didn’t sit by us at lunch again which was quite alright with me. But in each of our core classes, we were passively aggressively trying to outdo each other.

Apparently that put our science teacher under the impression that it would be a good idea to pair us up together. It didn't turn out well to say the least.

"No, we're supposed to line them up in a sequence of events," Arthur said rearranging our papers again.

"He just said that we had to put them in reverse order, starting with present day locations and end--"

"Now why would anyone--"

"He just said--"

The argument was continuous, dropping off and picking back up. It didn't end until our science teacher, Mr. Maetter, told the class to start cleaning up because the bell was about to ring. Thankfully we didn't have to sit near each other on the bus, otherwise a fight might have started again.

Unfortunately, we never did stop arguing in class and we ended up getting a "C" on the project. Arthur seemed to hate me even more for it even though it was partially his fault too. After that, our competition of seeming to be smarter than the other came to a hault. It wasn’t because we had both given up, no, it was largely because of some girl that also happened to share almost every class with us. Her and her curly hair and bucked teeth, acting all smarter than us.

Well she was, but that’s besides the point.

Being only a couple months into school, I accepted the fact that I would have to interact with him more often, but for some reason, that just didn't happen. Maybe the word got around to our other teachers that we were physically incapable of getting along. Or fate just kept us apart.

**It was a long time before Arthur played any role in my life again.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there's that! I finally was able to update again!  
> Good news is, school ends in two weeks! Bad news is, my allergies are trying to kill me. My nose is really plugged right now and my head hurts so my writing probably sucks and I apologize.  
> I also apologize if this doesn't seem like it is based in the 90's. During the late 90's and I was still fairly young and I don't remember much...other than falling off my bike when I was three. The 2000's, on the other hand, I remember very well and will probably seem a little more accurate when we eventually get to that point in the story.  
> Anyway, if you have any suggestions on how to get rid of the snot clogging my brain or on how to improve my writing or anything else, just get in touch with me somehow.  
> WARNING: The next chapter will skip over a gap of time and have some bullying themes in it. I will include more information when I post it.


	5. There are Secrets...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Bullying and slurs

Three years passed as fast as three minutes.

Freshman year had snuck up on me so quickly that I didn’t even realize that I was in high school. Sure, I realized that I suddenly had ten pounds of homework and a quiz every other day, but there wasn’t really anything special to it like I thought there would be.

It was the end of October in the middle of football season. School hadn’t started to get as difficult as it could be and people were still excited about every Friday night football game. Sometimes I wished I could go hang out with my friends during one, but I was too busy actually playing. Coincidentally, there was a practice that night and, being as forgetful as I was, I had left my mouth guard in the locker room the night before.

People bumped and pushed past me as I tried to make my way up stream. Everyone was trying to get outside to catch a bus or meet with their friends or make out with their boyfriend--or girlfriend--under the bleachers. A few kids were left behind, either because they were waiting for someone or had already clustered with their clique.

Seeing them like that made me smile a bit. Kiku and I had started out like that, only hanging out with each other and no one else. Eventually he picked up Eduard and I Matthias and Jett, and from then on the five of us were practically inseparable. Well we were for a while. In seventh grade, Matthias started ditching us for four other kids, a pair of brothers and two guys who were metaphorically joined at the hip. We were okay with it, but we missed him in a way. Jett stuck around, and sometimes it was like he was glued to our sides. But even Eduard started hanging out with some guy in our grade named Toris and a kid a couple grades below us, Raivis. They were shy and quiet, but we got along with them well enough. Toris actually sat with us at lunch a lot. It was odd to watch the group slowly start dissolving and coagulate as time passed.

Kiku and I still were inseparable most of the time. He had started making a lot of his own friends, usually the new kids who came and went, but he had managed to befriend some boy Yao and several others whose names I constantly forgot. I had started making a lot of friends as well, that year especially since I made the varsity football team. Our lunch table was usually filled with other guys from the team or from any of my other classes. I didn’t mind the crowdedness, in fact, I really fond of it. I felt popular, though I tried not to act like it.

Hanging around so many people was actually how I had gotten my first girlfriend the year before, Rachel. She was just a grade below us, sweet and kind and bubbly. She reminded me a bit of the dolls you see in the stores, long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, smile plastered to her face. Everyone enjoyed being around her. My friends didn’t mind it when she sat with us at lunch or when she came with us to a game or a movie or whatever. Mom even liked her and sometimes cooed over how cute we were; which actually came as a surprise considering she preferred actions movies over romance by a long shot.

It a bit shocking to everyone when we finally broke up. Most assumed it was because she had becoming increasingly jealous of my friends, which she had and that mostly had been the reason. I had started hanging out with them a lot more than her and she didn’t like that. In my defence, I had known them for years while I barely remembered what her favourite colour was, let alone what made her angry or got her so excited that she couldn’t contain herself.

I crashed into someone. “Oh, sorry,” I mumbled, taking a step back and looking up. I could have groaned at the sight. There stood Ivan, a Russian guy in the grade above me who had moved into our neighbourhood a year ago.

“Hello, Alfred. I did not see you there. Where are you going? Are you not going to miss the bus?” God, I hated his accent.

“No, I just need to grab something really quick,” I said, trying to just end the conversation there.

“I can give you a ride if you need one. I’ll be in the parking lot for a while waiting for my sister to walk over from--”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine. I can walk.”

“Oh. Okay. See you around.” With that he walked off. I don’t think I would have been so hostile towards him if he hadn’t befriended my brother. Over the years, people hadn’t been as kind as they should have been to Matthew and I had started to become _slightly_ protective over him for that.

It took me only a few more moments to get to the locker rooms. I had been expecting them to be empty, but even from the doorway I could hear voices yelling from somewhere inside. Figuring that it was just a couple of guys hitting each other with towels, I decided on just hanging out in the hall until they sounded like they were finishing up. The neighbourhood was only about two miles away and it was still sunny out so the walk home probably wouldn’t be as torturous as it would have otherwise.

Something slammed hard against the lockers. The clang sounded as though it had happened right next to me, not through a brick wall. I could hear a muffled pained sound, some laughing and more loud unintelligible comments. In that moment, it clicked that they weren't just messing around. People getting beat up after school on school property wasn't a rare occurrence but it almost always happened outside and behind the building.

Walking in, I could finally hear the words being thrown about clear as a bell.

"You cryin’, fag?"

"Gonna run home to your daddy? Or did he disown you?" There was a thud and whoever it was made another sound in pain. I only listened for a couple seconds before my blood was boiling. At that point I was pretty much storming into the room.

"I think there's someone--" They made eye contact with me. There were about four of them, all of who I didn’t recognize. Someone was on the ground with their back to the lockers looking up at them, the view of their face blocked by the posse’s bodies. The four jerks looked surprised to see me there for some reason.

"Alfred?" one of them asked. I recognized him suddenly. He had been a friend of Ben's from the football team at the very beginning of the year. They had gotten into a pretty big fight that Ben wouldn't talk to us about and I hadn't seen him in a couple weeks.

"What's going on?" I could hear the anger dripping in my voice and the warning lying just under it. Apparently one of them didn't as he asked, "Oh, just teaching the fag hear a lesson. Wanna h--"

Before I really got a chance to think about it, I had hold of his shirt and I threw him into the locker. I hadn't meant for it to be hard as it sounded but at least he managed to turn so only his back made impact. He was gone the next time I looked back at him.

The assumingly two smarter ones, Ben's old friend included, figured it was time to get the hell out of Dodge just as I turned back towards them, probably just not wanting to deal with someone who was willing to fight back. The finally one followed suit a moment later but not before getting a final comment out.

"Defending your boyfriend, I see."

"Eat my shorts." His fist came up and made contact with my jaw, though he didn't hit me hard enough to leave a bruise. I just grabbed him by the shirt and swung him towards the door. Stumbling into the wall, he seemed to get the message at long last.

Just as I heard the door close, I looked down at the guy sitting on the floor. My eyes probably widened a bit, looking down at him. There sat Arthur, no shoes, no socks, no shirt, only a pair of jeans on, nervously staring up at me with bruises starting to form all over his chest.

Something inside me was telling me just to leave him there like that, not to actually care about what was going on with him, to not get involved and to just carry on like normal. But I was the hero, and I couldn't just leave him there. Those guys could be waiting outside for him or something.

Without giving it much second thought, I sat down about a foot away from him. He just stared at me for a while before looking at the wall in front of him.

"Thank you," he whispered after a minute or so.

"That's what heroes do." I could tell he was rolling his eyes. Most people did, and then they teased me about the whole "hero thing." I didn't really mind.

A silence settled over the two of us. Shifting slightly, I asked, "Are you okay?" I realized it was a stupid question but I didn't know what else to say.

He scoffed a bit and replied, "I feel like the bloody Queen." Part of me felt like I was supposed to laugh at the comment or something, but instead I let the silence settle again, mostly unsure of how to respond.

It took less than a minute for it to start eating away at me again like it always did. I just hated silence and I didn't want to sit in it for more time than I had to.

Glancing over at him, I realized again he was only half dressed, I awkwardly said, "You can continue getting dressed, you know."

"Right." He stood up and walked back over to the open locker. Taking that as my cue, I got up as well and moved over to the table. It was fully of random forgotten things. A jacket, a sock, a couple of hair ties, and, thankfully, my mouth guard. Mom always made me wear one because she said she didn't want me “to ruin my smile by knocking it straight out of my face.”

"Why are you still hanging around here?" Arthur had pulled on a black shirt and was looking at me over his shoulder.

"I'm going to walk you home."

"Wait, what...why?" He looked pretty startled as he pulled a pair of socks over his feet.

"I don't want those guys to beat you up again," I almost mumbled, shrugging, feeling stupid. He stared at me for a few moments longer before putting on his boots and grabbing his bag out of the locker. Shaking his head a bit, he mumbled something that sounded like, "You're insane."

As he pulled one the hem of his leather jacket, I asked, "Ready to go?"

"You don't have to do this. You _were_ the one who didn't want to be associated with me." I winced at his comment, rubbing the back of my neck.

"I never said that _exactly_..." As a simple response, he rolled his eyes. I sighed a bit and walked out of the locker room with my mouth guard in my pocket and Arthur behind me. Neither of us bothered trying to make conversation. An invisible barrier had formed between us, and neither of us were sure if it was okay to try to knock it down.

No one really paid attention to us as we walked through the mostly empty hallways. The few who were still there were preoccupied with...other things.

Autumn air nipped bitterly at our faces and hands as we tried to just make it home. Pulling Grandpa's aviator jacket closer to me, I was thankful that it was lined with wool. Glancing over at him, I was beginning to think Arthur was kind of crazy, only in a leather jacket and holey  jeans. He also dressed kind of weird, all black clothes and a lot of leather. I had seen other kids that dressed like he did, usually they didn't talk much and acted like they hated everything and everyone. There was probably a word for them that I couldn't think of.

We walked for about a good ten minutes or so before a thought occurred to me; this was probably awfully awkward for him, considering how mean I had been to him when he first moved in. Guilt settled down into the pit of my stomach, making itself at home. I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly, trying to think of something to say to him. We actually walked for several more minutes before I came up with anything.

"Hey," I began slowly not really looking up at him. "Look, I'm sorry, dude. For how I treated you when we were twelve, I mean. That was a really dick thing of me."

I could tell he was looking at me. "You really think I'm still upset about that? That's the least of my problems now."

"Yeah, of course. Still I feel bad."

"Is that why you insisted on walking me home?"

"Partly, but I actually didn't want them to get to you again." He scoffed and probably rolled his eyes again. I got the feeling that he felt that he was smarter than me or something. He probably was, but I wasn't just about to admit that or let it get to me.

"So how is Matthew?" Kicking a pebble down the road a bit, I thought about how much I should tell him. After Matthew was unsuccessful in teaching Arthur hockey, the two started to grow apart. He didn't have many close friends and the ones he did started to turn on him. Some days he came home in tears, others he'd have a bruise forming somewhere. Mom was outraged. It started to lessen when he started middle school and altogether last year when I threw a couple kids into lockers when they had cornered him; kind of like what happened to Arthur. Matthew was doing a lot better now and had three close friends that he felt he could trust.

"He's alright," I said after a while. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Arthur nod a bit. Trying to keep the conversation going, now that the border between us felt knocked down a bit, I randomly asked, "What about your brothers?"

Arthur half groaned, half sighed. "Jack, the eldest, won't leave home. We could barely keep Lewis from leaving the second he turned eighteen. Oliver has finally come out of his phase of pretending Peter and I didn't exist, and Peter just started grade two."

"Uh... Interesting family you got there." He laughed dryly at my comment and didn't say anything else. Feeling as though the conversation was about to stop completely, I randomly asked, "So how's the magic coming along?" Naturally, I was joking, though hadn't meant to bring it up, seeing as I wasn't supposed to know about it.

"How did you...Matt..." he mumbled half to himself and half to me.

I felt awkward all over again. "Sorry for bringing it up. I just wanted to light--"

"No, no. It's alright really." Smirking to himself a bit, he sarcastically replied, "It's going just _splendid_ , by the way." It was my turn to chuckle a bit.

We continued trying to make small talk the rest of the way home. As it turned out, he didn't hang out with the rest of the punks--as he called them--but listened to the same music as them. Arthur had also made it into several Honours classes, wasn't going to the next football game, had a test that day and his favourite colour was green.

Before we knew it we were walking down Symphony Lane--the street we lived on--and we were practically home. We had a quiet competition of who could kick a rock the farthest. I ended up accidentally almost hitting a neighbour's dog with it. It made Arthur laugh a bit, so I guess it was okay. As we walked past my house, I could see Matthew in the living room doing something. I wondered silently how he and Mom reacted to me not being on the bus.

Four houses later, we were walking up Arthur's driveway. "So, this is where I leave you," he said, looking at me.

"I guess so," I said, giving him a half smile. Starting to walk away, I turned around to watch him walk to the door. Just as he got there he suddenly turned around and called out, "Does this mean we're no longer rivals?"

For some reason, I smiled. "Only if you want to be," I called back. He just smirked and walked inside.

The second I walked in the door, it was automatic questions.

"Alfred, where--"

"Why weren't you--"

"Are you alr--"

"Where were you?" Mom's voice piped up over Matthew's. She was glaring at me. Reaching down and pulling off a sneaker, I calmly replied, “I forgot my mouth guard in the locker room yesterday. I ran down there to get it real quick and I missed the bus. Then I ran into Arthur on the walk home so we walked back together.” Matthew gave me a suspicious look while Mom clapped her hands together almost happily.

“You’re finally speaking to him!” She and Arthur’s mom, Alice, had became close friends over the years. They didn’t seem to mind that their children didn’t really get along, but I guess this whole time they were holding out hope.

“Uh, yeah,” I said, half surprised that she actually bought it and wasn’t mad at me. She gave me a smile before turning back towards the living room. “Don’t do that again, you’re on dish duty for a week now.” _Yup. She’s mad_.

“Okay,” I mumbled taking off my jacket and hanging it up. Matthew continued to stare at me for a few moments. After a while he shook his head and said to me, “ _Try_ not to do anything stupid this time.”

Stupid wouldn’t even begin to describe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was that.   
> I apologize for the use of the word "Fag/Faggot" in this chapter. As a writer I used it because I realize that people still use it as a degrading term. As a person, I rather hate how the word is used now and I really wish it would fall out of use.   
> On a happier note, Al and Arthur are starting to be friends now. Yay! It's still going to be quite a while until they actually get together, but you guys are willing to wait, right?  
> Also, apologies for not updating sooner. Last couple weeks of school sucked butt. I had exams in every single class so I spent way too much time studying for those and stressing about them than I should have. But thankfully, now I'm on break and I may be able to update more often, though Driver's Training may limit the time I have for that.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you for reading and have a splendid day!


	6. Why You Gotta Sing That Tune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: More bullying and slurs, and an unhappy Arthur

Another night passed by without me having time to realize it. As soon as I got home, my life got busy. I quickly scrubbed the leftover food off the dishes, washed them and put them on the rack to dry. By the time that was done, I had about an hour to get the twenty pound stack of homework in my bag completed. Matthew was sitting at the table working on his and looked to be about half way through it. _Damn_ , I thought, trying to also think of a way that I might be able to just get him to do mine for me.

Unfortunately I came up with nothing as I quickly worked my way through Physics--it was all pretty simple anyway--Algebra One, finished a rough draft for an English paper, and then whipped through the homework for my history class. Glancing at the clock I realized there was only five minutes until I had to leave for the game. The rest of the night was a blur from there.

I rushed to get food in my stomach, and find my bag with all my stuff in it, and then get out the door to catch a ride with Gilbert. Somewhere in the mess of that I managed to shove my homework messily back into my bag. Forgetting a jacket, carrying one shoe while pulling the other on and swinging my bag over my shoulder, I raced out with half a sandwich in my mouth to Gilbert's old beat up Impala where he was waiting extremely impatiently. He laid off the the horn when he saw me come stumbling out.

"About time!" he said, moving the gear into reverse just as I managed to get in. "Do you know how long I was out here? Three minutes!"

"Hey dude, I'm sorry! Homework took longer than expected."

"Then you shouldn't have missed the bus!" I looked over at him. He didn't ride the bus anymore, hadn't for almost a year. Just as I open my mouth to ask, he smirked and held up his blocky cell phone not taking his eyes off the road. I was a little jealous of the fact that he had one, but he said he had to pay for the minutes and everything else which could really add up.

"Matthew called me asking if I had picked you up or if we went somewhere together. I said, 'no' and then he started getting really panicked saying you weren't on the bus and he had no idea where you were. I told him to chill and that you were probably just walking home."

"Yeah I was," I said, mentally kicking myself. That conversation ended there and before I knew it we were at the field.

The game lasted about an hour, the coach made us drive back to our field for an hour and a half long practice. By the time Gilbert and I loaded back into his car we both were sweaty and kind of cold, and the sun was going down.

"Why did you convince me to sign up for this back in grade school?" He asked, rubbing his shoulder slightly.

"I thought you'd like it, and guess what, you did."

"Oh shut up," he said, pushing me a little. "You know what I meant." I did, but I just liked messing with him sometimes.

When he dropped me off, he rolled down the window as I opened the front door and yelled, "Take a bath, little pig!" I was tempted to give him the birdie but my mom was standing several feet away so I just yelled back, "Eat my shorts" as he drove off.

"Eat my shorts?" Mom questioned, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged and said, "I'm going to go take a shower."

Which I did, and then I passed out on my bed.

The next morning I didn’t wake up until I heard Gilbert’s horn in our driveway. My eyes shot open and hopped out of bed, pulling on a shirt and jeans in almost record time. I still had bedhead and I was trying to pull a sock over my shoe as I hopped down the stairs. The phone was ringing and I automatically knew who it was.

“I just--”

“Ride the bus, we’re leaving you,” Gilbert said with finality and then hung up. I heard his car pull out of the driveway, ran a hand through my hair and sighed. I guess I was pretty lucky that Gil always picked us up ten minutes before the bus was supposed to come so I had enough time to eat a quick breakfast, dress a bit better and do something with my hair.

I walked out the door about eight minutes after Gilbert called me. Kicking a stone down the street, I didn’t really look up even when I reached the bus stop.

The bus could have come and I probably wouldn’t have noticed him, standing off to the side not really trying to make me aware of him. Well, he didn’t really try until he cleared his throat and I nearly jumped. There was Arthur, awkwardly standing about ten feet away from me. Shifting my feet a bit, I awkwardly said, “Oh, hi.”

“Hello,” he almost muttered. There was a delicate silence between us for a while, before he interrupted it with a, “Thanks again...for yesterday.” He was scratching the back of his neck and looking down at his boots. Seeing an opportunity, I took the chance to try to lighten the mood.

“Well that’s what heroes do!” I exclaimed, earning an eyeroll from him. Not wanting the silence to settle again, I quickly asked, “So, do you have anyone to sit with at lunch?”

His head snapped up in my direction, looking utterly surprised. “Of course I do! I’m _not_ some social outcast, Alfred!” He shifted a bit, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Besides, we both know how trying to sit at your lunch table will go over.” Getting the sudden feeling that maybe he still did hate me, I couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to be so nice to me the night before. If I were him, I would have just ignored me and walked back home muted.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said, feeling kind of defeated. We stood in the same silence as before except this time it was deafening and painful.

The wind gently blew through the tree tops, knocking red, orange, and yellow leaves to the ground. I could feel it ruffle my hair a bit and whisper in my ear. _Bus, will you just hurry up already?_ I thought, feeling anxious and annoyed. Silence really got to me.

Just as I started thinking of ways to try to start a conversation again, the bus pulled up to the end of the street. _Finally_ , I thought hopping on and sitting by myself next to a window.

The rest of the day passed normally enough, going to and from class, getting twenty pounds of homework, sitting with my giant group of peers at lunch and talking to thirty different people between class. The only thing actually caught my attention was that Arthur didn’t get off the bus with us and Ludwig did.

It was weird enough for him to ride the bus, usually Gilbert just dragged him along with whatever he, Antonio and Francis were doing, but it was even stranger for him to actually talk to us even though we saw each other every day. As we hopped off the final steps of the bus, he randomly said, “You two are Matthew and Alfred, correct?”

“Yeah,” I said, confused. “Why?” Matt shot me a quick look, probably because what I said could have been interpreted as rude.

“Gilbert wanted me to tell the two of you to ride the bus tomorrow.”

“Okay, thank you,” Matthew said cheerfully in his hushed voice, not letting me say anymore. Ludwig gave him a nod and the three of us walked home, almost as quiet as church mice. I had to admit to being just a bit jealous of Ludwig. He was about the same age as me but was built like a tank. People said he had more muscle on him than most of the seniors which was probably true.

That night passed the basically same way the night before did, dishes, homework, and hiking back through the underbrush with Matthew trying to find anything that we might have left back there years ago. We still liked going back to our hiding spot, though we had grown out of “hiding” back there and we most just kind of sat and talked which usually ended in us doing something borderline stupid. Sometimes we would find old toys, or pieces of things on the ground, but recently things stopped popping up.

I woke up to Matthew hitting me with a pillow. “Al, wake up.” He sounded half asleep himself. Groaning, I rolled over to look at him. “Dude, what time is it?”

“It’s six, now get up!” I swatted at his pillow and mumbled, “I’m getting up, I’m getting up.” Pulling on a shirt and walking down stairs, I pulled a box of cereal and a bowl out. Matt and I didn’t speak much as we both ate breakfast, trying to wake up.

“Thanks for waking me up,” I mumbled to him as I sat my bowl in the sink.

“I got the feeling that you weren’t going to wake up on time again today.” I huffed a bit and shoved him playfully. He smirked at me while I stuck my tongue out at him in reply, causing the both of us to laugh at how childish we were being.

Getting ready like any other normal day, I was ready to go to school within a half hour. So sitting around, bored out of my skull, my thoughts somehow brought me back to that late spring day back in 1995. There I was three years later no where closer to an answer than I was when I was eleven. I felt kind of bad that I hadn’t really done anything to get closer to one, but I then I realized I was only fifteen and I really hadn’t actually _done_ much with my life yet.

“Al,” Matthew said staring at me. Snapping out of my daze, I blinked and asked, “What?”

“I said, ‘Come on, it’s time to go.’” He didn’t sound annoyed, but he was trying to act like he was. I guess he thought I’d be more willing to move if I thought he was annoyed with me.

Getting up off the couch, I pulled on a jacket, slung my backpack over one shoulder and muttered, “I’m coming.” He gave me a slight nod and walked out the door with me following behind him a couple seconds later.

For some reason, Ludwig was already at the bus stop even though we all knew that the bus wasn't going to show up for another five minutes. Maybe he just really liked being early to things?

We quietly joined him, not wanting to disturb the peace. I was about to slip back into my thoughts from earlier that morning when Arthur walked up. It was probably the sudden movements that caught my attention the most. He made sure to keep the collar of his leather jacket flipped up and the sleeves pulled down.

He'd never acted so cautious and nervous before. Maybe he had and I'd never given it a second thought. Trying to watch him out of the corner of my eye, I couldn't help but wonder what was wrong. He was tugging at that jacket as though he were going to spontaneously combust if it don't stay in the right place. His blond bangs moved ever so slightly out of place every once in a while revealing something almost translucent black underneath.

At that point even Ludwig was throwing some glances at him so I felt better knowing I wasn't the only one who found this behaviour odd. Finally I just looked over at him for a good minute. He glanced up at me a couple times before giving me a confused glare. I tried to look concerned like maybe he'd calm down a bit, but instead his collar folded down to the side for a second. It wasn't a long second but it was enough time for me to see the hand shaped bruises on his neck.He quickly flipped it back up, probably hoping that I didn't notice.

In that instant, I understood why he was acting strangely. There were probably bruises all over his arms too. Why did he not want anyone to know about this? Didn't he want them to get payback for what they'd been doing to him? My blood was starting to boil just as the bus pulled up.

Purposely, I straggled a bit while walking over. Being the last one one, I half watched the others sit down.

Matthew made his way to the back as usual, Arthur sat in an empty seat towards the middle and Ludwig sat down with a boy named Feliciano who happily greeted him. Most people gossiped about how they were apparently dating but Gilbert often corrected that they weren't and Feliciano was just really...clingy.

Without giving it much thought, I flopped down in the seat right next to Arthur. He jumped a bit and I could see him staring at me out of the corner of my eye, but I chose to ignore it until the bus started to bump down the road. When I looked over at him finally, he was still eyeing me suspiciously. Looking him in the eye, I simply whispered, "I saw."

Arthur shifted a bit and pulled at his collar again. "It's not that big of a deal," he muttered after a moment.

"Dude, yes it is or else you wouldn't be trying to cover it up." He glared down at his boots and didn't say a word. The bus was getting closer and closer to school and we only had a couple more minutes. Everyone on the bus was mumbling to each other while there was still a handful were basically yelling, so I took another chance at getting something out of him.

"Was it those four guys again? In the locker room? I'll beat the living--"

"It's none of your business!" He whisper snapped at me. In doing so his bangs had flown to one side, finally revealing what was hidden underneath. Someone had wrote “FAGUT” across his forehead in a thick black marker. "So you can stay out of it! I can handle this _by myself_." Glaring at me, he crossed his arms and leaned away from me.

Staring at him, I quietly replied, "Hey, I'm just concerned." The moment the sentence came out his glare hardened and he started moving his bangs back into place.

"Since when," he growled, "have you ever cared about me? You only became 'concerned about me' yesterday when you..." He randomly stopped and his glare softened a bit. "You know what, I don't care." At that moment, the bus pulled to a stop and the doors opened. In a single motion, Arthur hopped up, managed to climb over me and get off the bus. I sighed, trying not to let it get to me.

It did anyway though.

I could have probably gone the whole day feeling slightly caught up on the fact that he didn’t want help with something that must have sucked. What was it like for him to get beat up like that probably every day? Why was he okay with going on like that? What did those dudes hate about him so much that they did that to him? I knew that they called him a “fag” and such, though there wasn’t anything wrong with that, but he couldn’t actually be...

I bumped into Mr. Coltured, my English teacher. “Careful there, Alfred,” he said, gently holding me out at arm’s length. “Sorry, sir,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. He let go of me and stepped to the side. “Slow down and look where you’re going. See you in another hour.”

“Yessir!” I called over my shoulder as he walked away. Being partly glad it was only second hour and Mr. Coltured didn’t make me walk back to the classroom with him, I quickly made my way into the bathroom. One of the guys on the football team said he left his jacket in one of the stalls and didn’t come through this hallway and wanted me to pick it up for him.

Pushing open the bathroom, I suddenly felt like I was walking in on something. Four guys were standing in a huddled a group. A couple threw glances at me as I pushed open a couple stalls, eventually finding the jacket. I balled up part of it in my fist and started to leave. One of the guys yelped something like, “He bit me!” I threw a look over my shoulder just to see Arthur try to push his way through the small wall of bodies.

That’s when I realized it was the same four guys from Tuesday that had been beating Arthur up in the locker room.

One of them slammed Arthur back into the wall. His head hit the bricks with a sickening **_THWACK_**. Part of me wanted to just walk out at that moment, maybe I was just bitter at Arthur for not wanting me to help. But then he slipped out of their grasp for just long enough to try to get away again. In the split second that he tried, I could see the look of utter terror in him. I probably wouldn’t have recognized it if I hadn’t put it there once when we were twelve.

“Leave him alone,” I said firmly as they slammed him against the wall again. Some guy with greasy long hair and an acne plagued faced turned to me and said, “Oh, here to save your boyfriend?”

My stomach knotted up a bit and I gripped the jacket tighter, feeling like I wanted to knock his front teeth in. Instead, I calmly asked, “Why are you even doing this?” I knew that starting a fight wouldn’t look too good on my part.

The guy smirked at me, “We’re beating up a dumb fag.”

Faking confusion, I cocked my head to the side and said, “But they’re not beating you up.” His face turned just as red as his zits. “Faggot!” he spat at me.

“Dude, quit talking to yourself.” I could tell he was getting severely pissed off remarkably fast. Ben’s old friend looked kind of amused at the fact that I was countering him so easily, while his other two buddies looked like they were ready to start throwing punches as well.

Just as the acne guy started moving towards me, raising his clenched fist, the door squeaked open. We all froze. I tried to look as panicked as I could as I turned a bit to face whoever walked in.

It was Mr. Coltured.

Faking relief, I hoped that my acting would keep me out of trouble. Mr. Coltured put his hands on his flabby hips and with a booming voice, basically yelled, “What on _earth,_ is going on here?”

Acne guys quickly dropped his hands loosely to his sides, pointed at me and said, “We walked in on Alfred beating up Arthur! We were just trying to protect him.” Putting a panicked look back on my face, I quickly turned around and said, “Sir, I swear I would never--”

“Alfred, quiet,” he said, looking more angry than I’d ever seen him. “I know you and I know _them_.” He nodded his bald head in the direction of the four boys. Pointing a chubby finger at them, he gruffly said, “You four, office, now. Alfred and Arthur, get to class.” Glaring at the four guys, he motioned for them to follow him as he left the room.

Waiting until after they left, I walked over to Arthur. “You okay?” I asked gently. Nodding, he started to make his way out of the bathroom. I followed after him, trying to stay near him but also give him a bit of space.

“They’ve been doing that for a while now?” I cautiously asked, thinking that maybe I was stepping over a line I shouldn’t be. He didn’t respond for a while and just kept walking. “Yes.” His voice was constricted and almost inaudible. There was barely anyone left in the hallway and the minute bell was ringing.

I wanted to say something to make him feel better, but nothing came to me. So instead I asked, “Do you want to walk home with me?” He looked up at me suddenly and I felt as though I said the wrong thing.

“Well we don’t have to. I mean we could just walk to classes or s--”

“No, I’ll walk home with you,” he interrupted. Smiling at him, I happily said, “See you in front of the school then?”

“Actually could you meet me outside the locker rooms?” I tried not to act surprised as I answered, “Yeah of course! See you after school then.”

I spent the rest of the day thinking about how maybe my answer really did have to do with helping people. Why else would I keep walking in on things like that? It wasn’t like there was some author out there just trying to move the plot of the story along.

Right?

Anyway, the hours passed quicker than seconds and soon I was waiting outside of the locker room. People started filing out, not really paying me much attention. Arthur walked out several minutes after them. Giving him a questioning look, his gaze focused downward and he muttered, “I don’t like getting dressed around the others.”

Shrugging, I responded with a, “That’s okay, dude. I can understand that.” He just nodded. We walked the rest of the way home making small talk and trying to just fill the silence. Usually I would try to crack some bad joke to try to get him to smile and he would talk about something stupid someone did or said in class. Little did we know that eventually our conversations would eventually become less pressured and awkward.

And neither of us would have guessed that our walks home would become a daily thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so there's that! Three weeks later...  
> But yeah, now we get to watch a friendship bloom into something gay (use whichever definition you like).  
> I already have the next chapter ready and it will go up tomorrow (which I'm excited for cause it's Canada Day)! Forewarning our bullying trend will continue, but this time with Canada feels.  
> Also I apologize for all the dark subject matter going on and if it makes any of y'all uneasy. I'm trying my best to remember to do the warnings at the beginning of each chapter, though it will start gradually disappearing.  
> Speaking of which, within the next chapter or so, the chapters will start getting longer...by, like, a lot.  
> Anyway, thank you for sticking around to read this and have a nice evening!


	7. If You're Looking For A Clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Some mild bullying themes

Walking back home with Arthur took a while to become an everyday thing. He'd just ask me in the morning on the bus, then I'd tell Matthew I'd be walking home with him so he and Mom didn't worry. Before I realized it, he stopped asking and I just always met him outside the locker rooms.

Over the weeks, I realized that his bruises were slowly disappearing. I didn't ask him if they were still bothering him, but still, a big part of me was glad that he didn't have to deal with that, which soon lead to the nervousness that one day the walks home would end. Didn't they start because of those guys? I didn't ask him about that either.

Maybe he didn't want them to end either. We'd kick at each other's feet as we went down the sidewalk, both smiling and laughing when the other fell. In trying to help each other up, the tripee usually ended up pulling the triper down onto the pavement as well. Bad jokes were cracked, and we would have silent games of kicking stones, but mostly we just talked.

Our conversations sometimes consisted of homework, what we disliked, what was deemed "totally unfair," and what seemed confusing--that the other usually understood. Other times we talked about people, what so-and-so said in class, who broke up with who, what one of our family members did the night before, or even what the last gossip was about teachers (the custodian, Mr. Peeps, and one of the math teachers, Ms. Arithmet, were totally flirting with each other whenever they spoke). Nearly all of what we spoke of was something completely random and out of the blue, or was just us being stupid. He would go off about a T.V. show or book, while I talked to him about sports and comics. We both listened even if we weren't interested.

There were also those rare occasions where we discussed ideas. Sometimes they were simple like what it would be like to be plant, or to be on fire. Others it was if people were going to one day live on another planet or if there was already some other forms of life out there. I think I liked those conversations the best.

Days started flying so fast that before we knew it there were three feet of snow on the ground. Walking home went from about forty minutes to an hour due to the fact that we were slower trudging through snowbanks. Neither of us minded much, I don't think. We spent a good amount of time trying to playfully trip the other into it all, though it didn't really work.

One day the sun actually peeked out from behind the grey clouds for most of the day, melting the snow a bit. That was the day I got a step closer to the answer.

Walking slightly farther ahead of Arthur, I smiled up at the sky. "It's nice to see the sun again, huh?" I stated, not really looking back at him.

"Yeah, I guess," he said, somewhere behind me. Normally he walked faster than I did, but for some reason in the winter he took his time.

My gaze traveled down to my boots, which were barely visible under the snow. Lifting up my boot, balled pieces of snow flew off making craters below. My smile turned to a smirk as I stooped and grabbed a handful of the stuff, packing it together easily in my hand.

“What are y--” Arthur didn’t get to finish his question and I whipped around and the snowball make contact with his stomach. Confusion swept over his face for a second before his mouth pulled up into a smirk and said something to the effect of, “You’re such a child.” Balling a handful of snow as well, he threw it at me and it made contact with my cheek.

Smiling at him, I packed a couple more and soon enough we were in the middle of a miniature snowball fight.

Throwing a couple packed balls at him, I managed to hit him in the arm and side. He looked a bit annoyed by it as he compacted some snow together in a sloppy sphere and chucked it at me, missing me by a couple inches. Tossing a couple more at him, missing him mostly on purpose, he ended up hitting me in the face two more times, much to my dismay. Finding myself hilarious, I chuckled a bit as I half-sung, half-yelled, "Why don't you hit me with your best shot?" Smirking at me, he chucked a snowball in my direction. As it made contact with my shoulder, he fired back, "Fire away!"

Laughing at each other, we continued throwing snowballs back and forth until we found the whole thing too humorous to actually continue. By then my shirt and areas of my jeans were soaked through, but I didn’t feel cold for some reason. Arthur weakly threw a snowball at me, missing, but he was almost doubled over laughing, a smile plastered to his face. In the ten minutes of the snowball fight, I had seen him smile and laugh more than in the whole time we had walked back together--I know that isn’t saying much.

For some reason, it felt unexplainably...good to know I was basically the reason behind that smile. Part of me was actually proud or something for making him grin like that. It was weird.

When I was in the shower that night, a thought occurred to me; what if that was part of the answer, making others feel happy. Maybe that’s what being a hero was actually all about, helping others by making them happy. With that thought in mind, I got another step closer to my answer.

The thought stuck in my mind a lot, for the better or worse. More and more people started hanging around me, as I started talking more to the kids who looked lonely. I started to make dumb, cheerful conversation with the kids who looked lonesome. I cracked jokes, gave them random compliments, and eventually left them when either the conversation died or a smile had started pulling at their lips. At first the compliments all had an absence of meaning, “I like your shoes,” or “that’s a cool shirt,” and the boring “I really like what you’ve done with your hair.” But after a while they were actually something. A couple times I got people to laugh and I’d just stare at them until they’d stopped and tell them just how amazing their laugh sounded. Everyone smiled and thanked me for it, but it was true, people had amazing laughs.

But as it turned out, people weren’t always so easy to cheer up completely. Sometimes I’d make people smile for a minute or an hour or so, but it usually didn’t last all day. After a while, they would go back to looking sad and lonely again and I somehow felt that it was my fault. Though it wasn’t the random people I talked to in the hallways weren’t what really got to me, no it was the people much closer to me.

A week or so before Christmas vacation started, I woke up to Matthew crying. It was somewhere around midnight and I had been asleep for several hours, he hadn’t.

“Mattie?” I heard him gasp a bit, trying to hold back sobs. In the darkness, I could see his curled form tense a bit. He choked out something inaudible as I swung my legs over the bed and walked over to his side of the room. His bed was pushed into the corner opposite of mine, so while I was closer to a window, he was closer to the door.

“Matthew, what’s wrong?” Sitting up, he untangled the blanket that had cocooned around him. “I-I-I jus...M-my frien’s,” he was definitely restraining himself from crying, I could tell by the way he stuttered and missed syllables. “Th-they jus--”

“Hey, calm down,” I told him gently, sitting down on the side of his bed. Shaking, he just nodded and started breathing a bit heavier, trying to do what I told him. As he eventually calmed enough to speak, I sat next to him, rubbing my hand on his back when it seemed necessary.

Eventually when he seemed to be able to speak, I gently asked him, "What's going on?"

He took a slightly shaky breath. "They won't talk to me." My heart shattered at the five words. Matthew had started the year out with only three "friends." They were people that he thought he could trust and would pick to be around before anyone else. Why was this happening _again?_

"Matt," I said pulling him into a hug. He didn't make a move to even touch me so I let go of him after a while. Trying to sound positive, I ruffled his hair a bit and gently said, "Well one day they'll regret not talking to you. Trust me, you’re going to be a world famous hockey player or biologist! You’ll be so great one day that they’re be a biography written about you and they’re going to be so embarrassed that they’re all the jerk wads so many people are reading about.”

Matthew sat there, staring at me sadly. “Al, that doesn’t help right now.” The loneliness in his voice couldn’t have been more obvious if he had actually tried. He’d just gone through the same exact thing last year and in the end only three of them stayed. What on earth had he done to deserve any of this? Everyone on earth just needed one friend, why couldn’t Matthew just have one friend?

Sure he was quiet and a maybe little _too_ polite at times, but people really liked him and he used to have a lot of friends when he was younger. I knew that in middle school friends groups did start changing--sometimes resulting in fighting--but that usually happened in seventh grade from what I’d seen. What were they so upset about now? Why couldn’t things be simpler like they were back when we were kids? We always used to share friends, whether they were people or stuffed animals...

An idea hit me like baseball, hard and without warning. Sliding off the bed, I got on the floor and reached down under the mattress. “Al?” Matthew questioned.

“Sh!” I knew it was under there somewhere. Knowing Matthew, he never would have put it down in basement. After a minute, my hand made contact with something fuzzy. Grabbing it, I sat up quickly pulling out with me the stuffed polar bear that Grandpa gave to Matthew.

“Kumajirou?” Matthew asked in surprise, looking at me as though I had suddenly gone insane.

I just shoved the bear into Matthew’s hands and cheerfully said, “Well who’s a better friend than a bear?” He just rolled his eyes at me as I continued, “Besides, you can take it with you practically everywhere so you’ll always have someone there for you.”

“You’re such a child,” he told me, laughing a bit. The laugh didn’t last long, just as quickly as he had started laughing he was crying again. Hopping back up on the bed, I tried to calm him down at least a little bit, but my heart ended up shattering even more.

“Why am I not good enough for anyone? Why do they hate me so much that now my only friend is a teddy bear and I’m up every night crying and... What the hell did I _do_ , Al?”

My hand fell from his back and I just stared at him, unable to make words form. He just fell back against his pillow, his face in his hands and Kumajirou sitting on his stomach.

“Why do they not care about me?” he mumbled after a while. Finally my brain managed to pull itself together enough to actually function properly.

“They’re just afraid that you’re going to outshine them.” Matthew gave me a look through the cracks in his fingers. “People are always afraid most of things that shine brighter than they do, so they try to smother them to make themselves seem brighter.” Waiting for me to continue, he took his hands off his head.

“You’re just too great a person for them, Matthew. They’re obviously not anyone worth being around if they can’t pull their heads out of their asses long enough to realize that they’re hurting you and actually appreciate how freaking awesome you actually are.” Sitting up, he gave me a weak half smile, trying desperately to hold back tears.

“I think I needed that,” he said in a whisper.

Somehow we managed to fall asleep in that tiny bed. We shouldn’t have been able to, but we did.

A week passed and Matthew seemed to be getting on along fine for the time being. I didn’t wake up to him crying, though I got the feeling he still did. I managed to talk Arthur into riding the bus home more often so Matthew didn’t have to sit through it alone. He quickly agreed when I mentioned Matthew. Maybe after all those years they had still barely managed to keep in touch.

Even though we caught the bus home a lot more often, Arthur and I still walked home together. The weather had been getting warmer, and I sadly watched the snow melt, thinking of our snowball fight. Towards the end of winter, I started randomly showing up at his house, just because I got all my homework done and I had no one to talk to. I think if Kiku and I lived closer we would have done the same thing.

It was during one of the arbitrary visits, that Arthur and I became a bit closer in a way.

“Dude!” I called, opening the front door and just walking in.

“Alfred!” Peter yelled, running into my legs.

“Hey, kid,” I said, smiling and ruffling his hair. “Where’s Arthur?”

“Oh he’s in the living room. He’s babysitting me tonight while everyone else goes out for something about Lewis.” Peter randomly changed the subject to some television show he liked to watch, I pretended to follow along while we made our way through the kitchen and into the living room.

Arthur was sitting on the couch, a book next to him, and the radio droning quietly in the background. He looked over at me as I walked in, not surprised to see me but almost angry that I was there.

“Go home, Al,” he said in a dull voice. Tears clung to his eyelashes, never really spilling off onto his red tinted face.

“Dude, are you alright?”

“He’s been like this all night. That’s why Mum and Dad didn’t make him go with everyone else.” Peter said, picking up his Rubik’s cube and twisting it a couple times. Arthur just glared at the wall, not commenting and on the verge of crying. Sitting down next to him, I repeated my question, “Dude, are you okay?”

“Alfred, just go home.” He didn’t sound angry, though his voice was shaking.

“No. Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong, just please go home.” He turned his glare over to me and I could see awfully clearly just how much he was fighting whatever was boiling up inside him.

“Yeah,” Peter put in, sounding curious. “What is the matter, Arthur?”

He stood up suddenly and started to move towards the hallway. “If you want to watch my brother for me, fine, do that, but I’m not going to sit out here being interrogated--”

Grabbing the sleeve of his sweater, I spun him around enough for him to look at me, before asking in a steady voice, “What’s wrong?” He glared at me, causing a tear to slide down his cheek.

“Go home, Alfred. It’s really none of your business, so just go. Leave me alone.”

“Why do you think I’d ever leave you alone?” His eyebrows rose ever so slightly at my question. He tried to tear his arm out of my grasp as more tears started to escape, but I yanked him towards me, pulling him into a hug. Pushing on my chest, he made feeble attempts to get me off of him, his breath hitching a couple times. After a moment or so, he gave up on trying to fight any of it and clenched his hands into my shirt and cried into my shoulder for a while. I could see Peter watching us from out of the corner of my eye.

Standing there, holding him, my focus kept bouncing around to different things. His fingers felt kind of bony curled up against my back. Had his family always had pictures hanging right there? Man, Arthur was skinny compared to some of the other guys that were in our grade...not that I’d hugged many of them before. The Kirkland’s walls were pastel blue apparently, something that I hadn't notice before. His hair smelled good, why did it smell good? That one floorboard looked almost exactly like that other one a couple feet away from it. Dang, Arthur was warm.

After a minute his breathing steadied, and he pulled away from me so I let go of him. Peter, looking as confused as ever, opened his mouth to say something before Arthur quickly put in, "I don't feel like talking about it." Peter almost did a couple times, but I didn't push it.

Time passed in the blink of an eye, filled with simple, almost silly things. I cracked as many jokes as I could remember from second grade, the weird ones that you can't believe we're ever funny but still make you smile. Peter brought some action figures down from his room and we sat on the floor moving the plastic toys along as he narrated some story. I tried to help him a bit when he got stuck but he just shushed me. He eventually ended up killing the guy I was playing with so I had to die as well. Arthur sat on the couch chuckling at us and shaking his head a bit.

That went on for a while before Arthur got up and said, "Alright, time for bed, Peter."

Groaning, Peter whined, "But we're having so much fun!"

"No, Mum said you had to be to bed by eight and it’s way past that already, Peter."

"Oh man. If _Mum_ "--I emphasized my obviously fake English accent, which earned me a scowl from Arthur--"said that you have to do it, then you have to do it." Just as I finished the sentence I lifted Peter up onto my shoulder.

"Alfred put me down!" He hit my back as if it would get me to do as he wished, but I ignored him and carried him upstairs. Pushing open the first door on the left of the hall, I walked into Peter's room. Painted a deep blue, the walls were covered in drawings, pictures and posters. Toys were scattered on his floor and his desk was covered in...was that a pile of dirt?

Gently throwing him down onto the bed, I announced in a nasally voice, "The S.S. Peter has docked!" Squirming a bit, he laughed a bit and sat up. Hopping of the bed and trying to make me move, Peter made an attempt at pushing me out of his untidy room. "Now get out," he told me after a while. "I have to get my pyjamas on!"

"Alright, alright," I said, putting my hands up in surrender and walking towards the door. "You better go to sleep though."

"I will!" Giving him a smile as I closed the door, I called, "Goodnight, Peter!"

"Goodnight to you too, Alfred," his muffled voice yelled back.

Arthur was waiting near the stairs, arms crossed, an irritated looks etched to his face. "Do you want me to tuck you in too, Eyebrows?" I asked him teasingly, trying to poke him in the side. He swatted my hand away, giving me a look. "That'll be the day," he muttered not really looking at me. Shoving me lightly, he then followed up, "And don't call me 'Eyebrows!'" Laughing at him a bit, I decided to ignore the fact that he was glaring at me.

After a while, the two of us made our way into Arthur's room. Hanging all over the room, posters for multiple different bands almost covered up the pale blue painted underneath. His bed was pushed up against the wall in one corner with his dresser on the opposite side of the room. For some reason, Arthur had ended up with the smallest room in the house and it really showed. Almost every time I walked in, I tripped over his desk chair.

Flopping down on his bed, I purposefully tried to take up as much of it as I could. "Move," Arthur said, sounding pretty tired. Screwing my face up a bit, I kind of hummed to myself for a minute before defiantly saying, "No."

Shoving my legs off the bed, Arthur sat down by his pillows. Sitting up, I gave him a smile, which went unreturned. Trying to lighten the mood even a bit, I started telling him about what had happened in Science that day. A couple kids were playing with the Bunsen burner when the teacher walked in. Long story short, our teacher finally got rid of his mustache and the fish's tank needs new water.

Arthur just nodded along at the story, giving obviously forced half smiles at the funny parts. As I finished, silence settled down between us, making itself at home. Tapping my fingers on my thigh, I tried to quickly come up with something else to say. Arthur did before me.

"I'm sorry," he started almost quietly, "this is a little random, but may I sit with you tomorrow at lunch. I realize that I turned you down--"

"Of course you can, dude!" Something like relief washed over his face. As he opened his mouth to say something, I cut him off, "But why?"

Dropping his gaze, he started playing with the hem of his t-shirt. He sighed a bit not making a move to clarify anything. Quiet returned, this time almost deafeningly loud. Not wanting to push him, I didn’t want to try and ask again, but at that point I was pretty much willing to do anything to break the wordless noise.

I was considering nudging him a bit, when he suddenly spoke again. “Really, I don’t know what I was expecting to happen.” Why did he sound so drained? “I knew they wouldn’t handle anything like that extraordinarily well. They never really have accepted anything that’s different in the slightest. I thought that maybe just one of them would since he was the first one to get the others to accept me.” There was something bitter in his voice, almost like he was angry at something or had just been stabbed by the person he trusted the most.

“I was wrong... I was so wrong,” he almost whispered, the anguish in his voice thick. Suddenly, he seemed to snap out of whatever state he was in. Sounding absolutely fine, he calmly said, “He told the others yesterday, after school. I told him quite a bit ago, so I think he told...others before them. They all said that I wasn’t allowed to be near them anymore and that I was disgusting.” He chuckled dryly without humour.

For a moment I couldn’t help but think of what was happening to Matthew at school. _Why them?_ I felt completely, totally repulsed at people whose names I barely knew. _Why did it have to be them? It could have been anyone else but them. Why couldn’t it be someone..._ Realization hit me, right then and there. It was happening to other people; people I didn’t know or didn’t talk to. There were so many others probably dealing with the same sort of problem that I just wasn’t aware of. They weren’t the only ones.

Wrapping an arm around his shoulders, I softly pulled Arthur into my side. He didn’t fight back or tell me to go home. After a second of just sitting there, unsure of what to say, I sort of repeated myself. “I’m not going to leave you. Not because of something stupid or petty. It would just add too much to your tragic backstory, and no one needs a _tragic_ backstory.” Scoffing a bit, he shook his head at my comment and muttered something that sounded like, “If you only knew.”

I didn’t question it, though I really wanted to. Though I wasn’t exactly sure what would drive so many people away from him like that, I knew that it shouldn’t matter that much.

Letting go of him, I moved a couple inches away from him. Just as I opened my mouth to say something, I glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Was it really already nine? _Mom’s going to kill me!_ Feeling my heartbeat pick up a bit, I quickly said, “I have to go.”

“What?”

“I was supposed to be home a half hour ago,” I said as I jumped up off the bed. He looked a little disappointed as he simply stated, “Oh. See you tomorrow.” As I stared at him, something inside my head just shut down for a minute.

Putting my hands on his cheeks, I quickly pulled his face towards me, placing a hasty kiss on his bang covered forehead. Closing his bedroom door behind me, I looked over my shoulder at him and quickly stated, “See ya!”

I left him looking dazed and confused beyond belief with a blush creeping over his cheeks.

Walking in the front door, I braced myself for whatever was about to go down. Mom was probably going to yell at me in that way where didn’t actually raise her voice at all. As I got myself prepared for Mom’s usual scolding, I walked into the living room to find Matthew sitting on the couch reading a book.

“Where’s Mom?”

“Work called about an hour ago, she had to leave,” he stated, looking up at me. “She’s not going to be home for a while, so don’t worry.”

“Okay, thanks Matt.” I ruffled his hair as I made my way to the stairs.

Going to bed about twenty minutes later, one thought wouldn’t just let me sleep.

Why were the best people treated so poorly?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I would have another one out today and look at that, I kept my word!  
> Before I forget, Happy Canada Day, here's a bit of Canada angst that will be expanded on later.  
> How did you guys like the snowball fight? Or the two School Employees flirting (which is based off a true story)? And how about all that hinting towards Arthur's sexuality (and oblivious Alfred)?  
> Also I noticed in the comments someone was asking about the Hermione cameo from one of the earlier chapters and yes indeed that was her. Good for you for picking up on that! I'll probably be throwing in a bunch of allusion like that in future chapters.  
> Anyway, have a good day everybody!


	8. Not Wise Enough to See

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Bullying and slurs

“Ugh, I hate him! He assigns so much homework!” Ben complained next to me. Hating school with a passion, it wasn't an anomaly for him to dislike teachers as well. Flipping his black bangs out of his face, he continued, "Who assigns a five page essay that is due in a week? It's _ridiculous_!"  
"Be glad you don't have Ms. Murrelet. She's only giving us until this Thursday to do all the research, draft a rough copy and actually write the damn thing," said Patrick, sitting about half a bench down. Several people groaned, having not yet had Language Arts and upset about the news of an essay. Thankfully Mr. Coltured was better about giving us time so I wasn't horribly upset about it.  
"A week really is enough time," Kiku basically muttered next to me, "if it is used wisely." Just as I started to agree with him, weight bent the lunch bench slightly to my left. Smiling, I looked over at him. "Hey, Arthur!"  
Kiku, Jett and Eduard were looking at me as though I were insane. A couple others glanced our way as I shrugged at them. A laugh escaped from Jett, while Eduard just shook his head, looking like someone told him a bad joke. Kiku actually smiled a bit and welcomed Arthur to the table. A few unsure glances were thrown at him but everyone acted completely fine with his presence.  
"What kind of teacher just assigns a whole freaking essay like that?" Ben could go on for hours about a simple subject and always have something new to say. Most people said that he had more hair on his head than brains actually in it. I guess they were right to some extent, but it took a certain kind of genius to be able to talk nonstop about the same subject.  
As he walked by, Francis pulled on a couple locks of my hair. Turning to look at him, I found him wiggling his eyebrows at me and then motioned towards Arthur. I suddenly felt the need to give him the birdie, but settled for just rolling my eyes at him. Later, I’d probably hear all about what the motion was supposed to mean.  
The trio--they insisted on being called the "Bad Touch Trio"--didn't sit with me or any others at lunch. After being in the school building for a year, most people learnt not to try to get involved with them in many ways. Sure you could befriend them, you just couldn't sit with them. They usually planned stuff at lunch that wasn't supposed to be overheard and other things you just didn't _want_ to hear. The three of them still hung out with other people in the hallway and stuff, but lunch was when the three of them would only have each other and that's just how it worked. No one disrupted the system of questioned it really.  
When I reentered the conversation, I was kind of surprised to see Arthur actually fitting in with the group.  
"...so peculiar. Randomly one day he just decided I was his favourite student and suddenly I'm actually getting A's in his class though he's been giving me B's all year," Arthur said, almost trying to sound bitter or keyed up.  
"Dude that's weird," some guy, whose name I didn't know, put in, "I swear that he doesn't like anyone."  
"Oh he just doesn't like you!" the guy next to him--I think his name was Corry--interjected. "You mess around too much and keep flirting with all the girls for any teacher to like you!"  
"Mr. Greenfield likes me!"  
"He's the P.E. teacher! Of course he like you!" Arthur was smirking at the scene going down. A couple guys laughed as they continued to banter, but I mostly just stayed out of it.  
"I happen to like Mr. Coltured," Eduard commented, spearing a couple lettuce leaves. "He's not always the best and sure he does make us write a lot, but he's pretty good overall."  
"Yeah he is," Arthur put in, suddenly seeming distracted by something. He had the same look on his face this morning on the bus, almost worried but a bit more angry about something. Having been asked about it, he promptly snapped, "I am fine," and I left it at that, though I wasn't so sure.  
Not even a couple seconds later a voice rang through the noise of conversation. "Hey, fag!" Arthur tensed up a bit next to me. A kid a couple tables over started looking around panicked, but most people didn't seem to notice--or care--about the remark.  
"Yeah, you!" A boy with fairly long dirty blond hair, and a nose full of pimples started walking up towards us. Most of the table started throwing him looks and glaring at him as he swaggered up, looking pretty cocky. Two other boys were following along behind him, not as confident.  
Arthur suddenly became unusually interested in the food in front of him and refused to look up, even as they stopped right behind him.  
"Hey, _fag_ ," he said, a cruel smirk turning up at the sides of his mouth, "Got yourself a boyfriend, _fag_." More glares and confused looks were shot at him from around the table and from a few surrounding ones. Arthur visibly started to pale and his eyes bugged out, darting around quickly, searching for an exit.  
"Do we have a problem?" I snapped at him. My blood was starting to boil a bit as it slowly started to click that they must have been Arthur's old friends. Pissed off that they actually had the courage to harass him like that, I clenched my fists a bit trying to keep a level head.  
"Are you the faggot's boyfriend?" This came from one of the guys behind him, short, spiked up white-blond hair and had unsettling, narrow sloe-eyed black irises. I'd never seen him before, nor the other two, but I let their faces burn themselves into my mind. In the process of this, I noticed that the one who hadn't yet joined in on saying anything looked almost guilty and uncomfortable. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.  
"What does it matter to you?" Ben piped up, his ears starting to turn red. He made friends fast but was also quick to a fight.  
The leader of the three found the whole thing amusing for some reason. "Oh, now the _fag_ has a bunch of _fag_ friends." In that moment, I was ready to knock his teeth in and break his nose, the way he emphasised the word “fag” in each sentence, but something suddenly clicked. _“I knew they wouldn’t handle anything like that extraordinarily well. They never really have accepted anything that’s different in the slightest. I thought that maybe just one of them would since he was the first one to get the others to accept me.”_ Could Arthur really...? _“He told the others yesterday, after school. I told him quite a bit ago, so I think he told...others before them. They all said that I wasn’t allowed to be near them anymore and that I was disgusting.”_ That was now six people that had referred to him as "fag" and putting that all into context of what he told me just a day before...  
Quickly rising from his seat, Arthur practically jumped over the bench. "I have to go." He sounded panicked. The two guys that had been harassing him made a move to go after him, but Ben and some other guy had them by the collars. Guy number three stood back fearfully, looking ashamed. Standing up, I opened my mouth to call out after him, but a hand was placed on my shoulder pulling me back down.  
"Alfred," Kiku said gently, pulling me back down. "Let him be alone for a while. Trust me. He probably just needs to calm down." Kiku was usually full of advice. He was really open minded to most stuff and was always relaxed, a great mediator really. Dealing with people, he knew more about how to handle certain things even though I was a lot more outgoing that he was--that's probably why we worked together so well. But as I sat there at the table, I couldn't help but feel that maybe he was wrong for once. Maybe I should have gone after Arthur, not let him be alone.  
The thought ate away at me for the rest of the day.

As I waited outside the door of Arthur's last hour class, time ticked away slowly. Some passersby shot me a couple confused looks, but no one tried to talk to me. A minute after the bell rang--most teachers let out early--the teacher walked out, giving me a strange look. Realization swept over her, face as she recognized me. "He wasn't here for my class today. During attendance, everyone told me he left for home early," she said gently, locking the door.  
"Oh!" I probably should have figured that out in fourth hour when he didn't show up. "Uh, thanks miss." She just gave me a smile as I started to bob through the mass of bodies, trying to catch the bus.  
Unfortunately, I had been bogged down in homework that day in practically every subject which slowed me down a bit. _It's 1999_ , I thought kind of bitterly, _my backpack shouldn't weigh fifty pounds! This is an injustice to teenagers everywhere._ Matthew gave me a slightly confused look as he sat down next to me. Shrugging, I tried to make my smile looks genuine and hide any worry that might have shown. Making small talk was a great distraction from the rest of the world.  
But distractions only work so well for so long.

Arthur didn't show up at the bus stop the next day. I tried listening to Matthew talk about certain players from his favourite hockey team but I just couldn't focus. Then he didn't show up at lunch or any of his classes and something inside me sank a bit. Riding the bus home again, Matthew once more gave me a look, this time more worried than before. Telling him that he was just sick, Matthew just shrugged it off but I got the feeling that he was still worried about me...or Arthur or who ever.  
Thursday rolled around after two days and Arthur still was a no-show. Finally after two days, I decided that I might as well find out what was up with him.  
Walking down the street, my thoughts randomly went off into a scenario of what would happen. Maybe Arthur really was sick, and I could hang out and take care of him for a while. Maybe someone in his family had died the day before and we would just sit in his room in silence. Maybe he just really didn't want to see me and he'd kick me out. Before I could decide on which one seemed more logical, I was standing on their porch, my finger pressed into their doorbell. Quickly pulling my hand back and jumping back, the door narrowly missed me as it flew open.  
Standing now in front of me was the mountain of a guy I had seen walk out the door years ago. His bright red hair was longer, with red stubble covering his chin and he had more muscles than before. Glaring me down, he didn't say a word as he reached out for the door to close it again.  
Slamming my hand on the door to keep it open, I quickly got out, "How's Arthur?"  
A shiver rolled down my spine as his hardening glare bore into me. "Leave my bloody brother alone, wanker." His voice was colder than the chill sent out from glare as he tried to close the door again.  
Pushing it back again, I stuttered, "No, hey, listen--"  
"No you listen to me! Don't talk to my brother, don't come near him, don't even _look_ at him. You've already done enough damage."  
A sinking pit opened up in my stomach, eating away at me from the inside out. Part of me considered knocking his front teeth in, but that fight wouldn't end well. I also was tempted to just force my way into the house but he was Brobdingnagian and there was probably no way past him.  
Staring at him dumbfounded and confused, I just quietly said, "Arthur hasn't been to school in a couple days. I was just wondering if he was okay."  
We just stared at each other in silence. My hand slipped off the wood but he didn't slam the door shut. Did he not hear me? As I opened my mouth to repeat myself, a voice called out from somewhere in the house.  
"Jack! If no one's at the door bloody close it!" Why did everyone in this family sound different from each other? Arthur, Peter and their mother sounded English; the brother in front of me--Jack apparently--sounded _undoubtedly_ Irish, and the voice had an accent I couldn't even place.  
Jack rolled his eyes at the voice, looked back down at me and simply said, "He's sick." The door slammed close with a **_BANG_**! Something told me that he obviously wasn’t sick.

After _another_ day of Arthur not showing up to school, I came to the decision that I was going to break into his house no matter what. Of course by doing that, I’d have to leave Matthew alone which gnawed at my insides like a hungry, rabid animal. He had been fine for a while, but over the course of the week I’d woken up to him crying again and it became a nightly occurrence. Most of the time I just rolled out of bed long enough to calm him down so he could sleep, others I’d have to crawl under the duvet with him. I didn’t mind much, but he was becoming alarmingly quiet for someone who was already quiescent.  
Finishing up the last few sentences of my homework--Mom would have killed me if I didn’t get it done right away--I pulled my shoes and jacket back on. “Hey, Matt?” He looked up at me with a mute stare. God, I was starting to hate that distant and empty look he started to wear so much. “I’m going to go try to check on Arthur again. No small fires, okay?”  
Rolling his eyes at me, he basically breathed back, “Don’t do anything stupid, Al.”  
“When do I ever do that?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond as I walked out the door.  
The neighbourhood seemed oddly quiet for a Friday afternoon. Usually there were a couple cars out or someone clearing the snow out of their driveway. Today there was no one, as if it were a ghost town. A shiver ran down my spine as I thought of ghosts. Man, I hated them.  
It took me about a minute to walk down to his house through the accumulated snow. _I swear the plow came through today...and it hasn’t snowed anymore since then._ But having a thin layer of snow on my boots was the least of my worries at the moment.  
This time I didn’t bother with the door bell. I was coming in whether they wanted me to or not. Opening the front door, I discovered the house to be deathly silent, except for the almost silent hum of music streaming down from somewhere upstairs. I would have expected at least one of his brothers to be home at the time. Did they all go out or something?  
Taking off my shoes, I left them on the rubber lining on the floor and made my way through their kitchen and into the living room. To my surprise, there really was no one home except for whoever was upstairs blasting music. Plodding down the hall, and up the stairs, the music got louder and louder until I could hear it remarkably clearly only halfway up the stairs. For some reason I wasn’t surprised when I found that the source of it came from Arthur’s room. It kind of seemed like something he would do.  
I don’t know what compelled me to do it, but I pounded loudly on his door before walking in.  
“Oliver, you guys weren’t supposed to be home unt--” His voice gave out and bolted upwards into a sitting position the moment he saw me. Neither one of us broke eye contact for what felt like an eternity, guitar chords and loud lyrics still blaring in the background.  
“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he finally spat out, his brows furrowing and his lips pressing together distanfully.  
“Why weren’t you at school?” I fired back over the music.  
My comment didn’t phase him, as he snapped, “What are _you_ doing here?”  
“Why have _you_ skipped the last three days of school?”  
“Alfred,” he sounded pissed but at the time I just didn’t care, “why are you _here_?”  
Not wanting to push it any more than I already had, I irritably said, “You walked out on all of us during lunch and didn’t come back to school all week. You’re obviously not sick. What’s up?”  
He didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure what band was playing but it was starting to get on my nerves, how it drowned out any other sound but itself making it impossible for me to think. Dumbfounded, Arthur just stared at me as though I had just told him that I had murdered his entire family and now wanted him to eat their hearts. Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe I had said something wrong and now looked like the biggest douche in the world.  
After a moment, Arthur slung his legs over the side of the bed, got up and turned his little radio, or CD player or whatever it was, off in a single fluid motion. The unfamiliar silence was eerie and if it weren’t so cold out, I probably could have blamed it for my goosebumps.  
“I thought you would have figured it out by now,” he said quietly, looking down at his socks. At first I was unsure of what “it” actually was. _Crap, has someone actually died? Man, I probably seem like a jerk ri--wait. No. Could it be....Oh...oh. OH!_  
“You mean why they were calling you a ‘fag’?”  
“ _No_ , I meant that my Great Aunt Lizzie died and we’re moving back to England,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. I was half tempted to give him the birdie and just walk out of there, but instead I calmly said, “Yeah, I figured it out. And I didn’t have to ask anyone either.”  
He gave me the same flabbergasted look, before asking, “So you don’t mind then?”  
“Of course I don’t mind! Why would I?” He was definitely looking at me as though I had just brutally slaughtered his entire family. For a second, he almost stepped towards me but stopped. Looking down at his socks--what was so interesting about a pair of old, dirty socks, I had no idea--he drily, bitterly chuckled to himself and whispered, “You idiot...I was ostracised by people who claimed to be my friends over it. I got beat up in the locker room for over a month straight over it. People literally _hate_ me because of... _this_.”  
Staring at the top of his head confused for a while, I took a couple steps towards him, forcing him to look up at me. There were tears threatening to slide down his gradually reddening cheeks. I suddenly became terribly aware of how small his room was and how close I was standing to him even though I shouldn’t have been. Half tempted to just run out of the room and hide under a rock for the rest of my life, I forced myself to say _something_.  
“I may not be able to change other people, but I know for sure that I’ll never leave you over something as _simple_ as that.” The corners of his mouth turned up in an unhappy smile as he glared at the ground like if it caught fire right then, all his problems would be solved. After a second or so, Arthur wiped furiously at his eyes with the heel of his hand.  
“You okay, dude?” I asked cautiously.  
“I don’t know, Alfred.” His voice quivered a bit, and suddenly my chest tightened a bit. There was something trying to rip my heart out and I wanted nothing more than to make it stop. Taking a step forward, I almost hugged Arthur for a moment, before his gaze darted up and met mine and I just froze. Vaguely I could see the same timid, dead look that Matthew often wore at the time. Before I really realized what I was doing, I had my arms wrapped tightly around his ribcage and he stood petrified in my arms.  
As I started to pull away, he suddenly hugged me back, squeezing my shoulders even more roughly than I held him. We stood there for probably only minute, but it could have been a little infinity for all I knew.  
“Thanks,” Arthur muttered in my ear as he started to pull away.  
Smirking at him, I coolly replied, “Well, I am the hero after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I have a lot to say today so bear with me.
> 
> I have made about three references in this chapter, one was to Mean Girls if you didn't catch it and the other two were to miscellaneous things in my life. The first one of those being Mr. Greenfield the P.E. teacher, who's name and job are loosely based off a real life person. The second being the trend of homophobic, asshole guys having notably a lot of acne, also based off real people.
> 
> Making a side note about the Bad Touch Trio, I do realize a lot of people in the fandom do not appreciate that nickname for them and I understand why, believe me. I'm using it here (and later on in any other story I write probably) because they're high school boys. If you've ever met a high school boy you'd understand, if you don't get it, then I'm just going to say it's because they're stupid and think it's funny.
> 
> I also want to apologize a bit on Kiku in this chapter. He made a kind of butt move in here, not letting Al go after Arthur, but 1) I'm just going to say that he understood Arthur's kind of tsundere, introverted ways maybe, and 2) I needed something like that to happen to move the plot of this chapter along I'm sorry.
> 
> Also I am going to warn you that there are going to be bullying themes (if not straight out bullying) in the next chapter but we're finally going to be expanding into what Matthew is dealing with finally.
> 
> I'm also sorry I never explained two things: how the American high school system works, or the names of the Kirkland brothers. My apologies.
> 
> Kirkland brothers:
> 
> Jack = Ireland
> 
> Lewis = Scotland
> 
> Oliver = Wales
> 
> Peter =Sealand (obviously)
> 
> American High School System:
> 
> Freshman = Grade Nine
> 
> Sophomore = Grade Ten
> 
> Junior = 11
> 
> Senior = 12
> 
> Both those things just slipped my mind and I apologize dearly for them because I probably left a handful of you very confused.
> 
> On a final note about this chapter, Jack was getting after Al because he recognized him from when he was twelve and thought he was one of the guys picking on Arthur so that's why, but it can be interpreted as he knew about Arthur's sexuality or something of the sort.
> 
> Not pertaining to the story, I am finishing up Driver's Training this week, though I will try to get out another chapter despite the fact that I should be studying. It's just that my family is going on vacation next week so I want to get what I know will be a long chapter done while I'm in the car for 13 hours straight.
> 
> There done. Have a nice day.


	9. Now Talk to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Bullying

As we rode the bus home Monday, it became increasingly obvious that there was something terribly wrong.  

Sitting with all three of us in a single seat--there wasn’t really room to sit elsewhere anyway--I hung on the the seat in front of us, trying not to fall into the aisle. Arthur got the window spot per usual, and Matthew was squished in between us. That wasn’t what was strange.

As we started the daily round of small talk--the “Do you have homework” and “how was your day” usually got someone to start an actual conversation--I noticed that Matthew was avoiding speaking at all costs.

“So, what did you think of the ‘mystery meat’ they served at lunch today?” I asked, hoping maybe that might just bring him out of his funk. Matt scrunched up his nose and shrugged. Arthur gave him a confused glance before saying, “Just about made me want to gag seeing people eat it. You blokes sure are odd that you can stomach that garbage.”

“Art, you’ve been here long enough that you should be used to it by now.”

“Three years isn’t long enough.” Matthew was just staring at the floor, deaf to our short lived conversation. Looking back and forth between the two of us, Arthur gave me an inquisitive look and I answered back with a shrug. Matt didn’t give any hint that he noticed.

“Matthew,” Arthur started cautiously, “are you feeling alright?”

The sudden question snapped him out of his trance and he just nodded silently. That was the moment I realized that there was something wrong.

“Did you lose your voice today or something, dude?” I asked hoping that this time he would actually say something. Instead, he just shook his head and shrugged. I had grown up used to the fact that he did speak a lot or loudly, by going straight up mute wasn’t normal.

“Bro, then why aren’t you talking?” He didn’t respond for a second, and sat there as still as was physically possible on the constantly bumpy bus. After a minute, he just shrugged and continued to stare down at the floor. Arthur gave me a concerned look. All I could do was give him a shrug and a frown.

Soon the bus stopped at the beginning of Symphony Lane and we all piled off. Walking the quarter mile back to our house, Matthew and I broke off towards our yard. Looking over my shoulder, I called, “See you tomorrow, Arthur!”

“It’s not like we have any choice, Al!” he called back, trudging home through the snow.

As I turned back towards the house, I heard the front door slam loudly. Worried, I jogged up what I assumed was the driveway or yard onto the front porch. Opening the door slowly, I found a calamitous scene.

There was a small pile of snow melting on the floorboards that had been knocked off Matthew’s boots. His backpack had been thrown haphazardly into the living room, a couple pencils and wrappers laying on the floor near it. Right next to the door, curled under the coat rack was Matthew, shoulders shaking and breath hitching.

“Oh, dude!” I exclaimed, quickly shutting the door and kneeling down next to him. Putting a hand on his shoulder, I tried to calmly say, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. Just tell me what’s up.” Visibly trembling, he didn’t respond or calm in the slightest.

After what felt like much too long, I sat down next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He sat next to me bawling, not reacting to anything I said. Shushing him a bit and rubbing his shoulder, I gently said, “It’s okay. Let it out. You’re okay.”

Suddenly through the sobs, he managed to get out, “They hate me, Al.”

Thrown aback for a second, I asked, “Who does?” He didn’t respond for a while, heavy, pain-filled tears rolling down his cheeks. “My friends,” he got out in barely a whisper. Something inside me suddenly snapped. I had only met his current friends a couple times, but I was going to knock their front teeth in the second I saw them. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears as I shook my head a bit.

“Those...bastards,” I spat out after a minute. Feeling myself shake a bit, I tried to remain calm for Matt. He didn’t need to worry about me killing someone when he had something much more important going on.

At that point he seemed to be forcing himself to calm down. His breathing started to become more even and relaxed, the quivering stopped, but the tears still flowed. After a minute or so, he stuttered in a shaky voice, “T-they...they started spreading rumours about me.” I’m not sure if he saw me look at him or not but he continued anyway.

“They’ve been saying that I...that I was controlling who they were allowed to be friends with. A-and that I was threatening to...do things to them be-because...” His voice broke and he started wiping rapidly at the source of the tears, trying to pull himself back together.

“It’s okay. Let it out if you need to.” He let out a wavering breath, and stared down at his feet.

“They said I was threatening them not to tell anyone I was gay, Al.” Looking over at him, shocked, he quickly added, “But I’m not! I don’t know why they’re saying all this. I’ve never actually had a crush on anyone let alone a guy and I just don’t know what to do about any of it and--”

Taking a deep breath, trying to control my rising anger, I shushed him and calmly asked, “What do you think happened that caused them to start acting like this?” He played with the hem of his shirt for a while, staring down at the melting snow on the floor.

“Remember last year when I turned those girls in for smoking behind the school?” I just nodded, waiting for him to continue. “They kind of hate me now and a couple of them started dating Randy, Max and Herbert.” It took me a minute to realize who the people were.

Patting him on the shoulder, I bitterly said, “Then they’re not anyone you actually want to spend time with if they treat you like shit because of a bunch of girls.”

“Al, I don’t have anyone else to talk to. I can’t just sit alone at lunch. I...just...” His breath hitched a bit, and his cheeks wettened again. Simply, I just pulled him into a hug again, quieting him. After he calmed again, I muttered to him, “If it can’t get worse, then it can only get better, Matt.” Then I got up, grabbed a phone and walked upstairs.

Punching in Gil’s number, I angry locked myself in our bedroom and listened with annoyance to the ringing on the other end of the line.

“ _Hallo_ , the awesome Gilbert is speaking.” There were a couple other voices in the back, laughing, their words unadiable. “Hey, Gil, it’s Al. Tonio and Franny are there right?”

“ _Ja_ , they’re here. What’s up?”

“Can you put it on speaker real quick?” Somewhere I heard Gil yell for them to shut up and there was a beep.

“What’s the matter, _mon ami_?” Francis’s voice rang through the telephone.

“It happened again,” I said bitterly, trying not to let my anger get the best of me by smashing the phone into the floor. “Matt’s friends started dating some girls who hate him and they’re alienating him.” There was silence on the other end.

Suddenly, there was the sound of air rushing past the speaker and a **_thud_** as the phone hit something. After a few seconds, Gil picked up the phone again. Sounding unusually perky, Gilbert calmly said, “Well that means we have to give those bastards a lesson, huh? You know what, I’m going to pick you two up tomorrow. Tell Birdie that. See you tomorrow, Al.” With that, he hung up.

Even though we weren’t related in anyway, Francis and Gilbert thought of Matt as basically their little brother, while Antonio probably wouldn’t have gone anywhere past a close friend...who he was also protective of. For probably the first time, I was thankful that they cared so much about my little brother.

Driving slowly over the dark, ice covered road, no one really spoke much. Scrunched up in the back with Francis and I, Matthew, after a while, uttered out a, "Thanks again for giving us a ride."

" _Ja_ , anytime, Birdie." Matthew seemed to be taken aback by the nickname for a second but didn't comment on it.

We all sat in the quiet car, sometimes staring out the window or watching the road, the radio almost silently playing in the background. Whatever song had been playing before ended and the next song came on. All of the sudden, Antonio yelled out, "Yes!" He then proceeded to turn the radio up excessively high.

_"So make the best of this test and don't ask why,_

_It's not a question but a lesson learned in time,_

_It's something unpredictable and in the end it's right--"_

An out of tune, off key chorus broke out throughout the car, "I HOPE YOU HAD THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE!" Surprised a bit by the random outburst, Matthew and I just laughed a bit at the trio who continued to scat the instrumental. "You guys can't sing," I muttered, shaking my head a bit.

"We sound beautiful, Al," Gil said, shoving my leg a bit, not taking his gaze off the road. Laughing a bit, I answered back with a, "Whatever let's you sleep at night."

"Ooooh!" Francis and Antonio called out in unison over the radio, earning another laugh from me. Matthew smiled a bit which was good enough for me.

"You guys are supposed to be on my side!"

"Not anymore, _amigo!_ " Antonio chuckled. Gilbert rolled his eyes and put a disgusted look on his face.

As soon as it came on, "Good Riddance" ended and the radio went back down to its usual dull hum. We sat in almost silence until Gilbert pulled into the parking lot of the middle school. "You guys still have to ride the bus home, got that?"

"Okay. Thanks for the ride," Matthew muttered, but before he could climb out, Gil randomly asked, “You gonna be okay, kid?” Completely confused, Mattie just simply replied, “Why wouldn’t I be?” Then with that he opened the door, climbed over me and hopped out slamming the car door behind him. Just as he started to walk away, Gilbert backed out of his spot and into one towards the back of the lot. Turning the engine off I heard him utter, "Now just turn on later." Then he basically yelled, "Now get out of my car we have business to take care of!"

Marching into the school, we discovered it was harder than expected to make or way through the horde of people a good foot shorter than all of us. Wading our way to the Principal's Office, I heard Gilbert mutter, "So many short people," with distaste. Snickering a bit, I looked up at the handful of kids--probably in grade six--staring at us, five seconds away from a heart attack. "Boo," I said jokingly, making them actually back up a bit, which got a chuckle out of me. Other than that, barely any of them gave us the time of day.

Part of me missed the way the social groups set themselves up in the lobby before school, and the rest of me was glad I was finally out of the pit where kids didn’t know that they _needed_ deodorant.

Walking into the Office, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, memories of all the hours I spent sitting in here getting told off for punching someone, or being the instigator in a fight. Good times. _They seriously need to get new decor or something in here, jeez._ I thought as I realized the same blood stain was on the seat from the one time I broke Bennett Erkright’s nose. Now _that_ was an incredibly _pleasant_ conversation.

"No,” The secretary blurted out looking wide eyed and panicked. “No, I just got rid of _him_ last year and you three are most _definitely_ in high school now."

"Nice to see you too," Gilbert muttered under his breath.

"No, no _Señora_ ," Antonio said calmly, "we're here on behalf of a student here."

Throwing some confused glances back and forth between the three of us, she visually relaxed. "Speak," she said after a moment.

"You know my brother, Matthew, probably not." She shook her head, before I continued. "He's in eighth grade, Matthew Williams. Uh, well his friends are kind of bullying him right now." _Nailed it._

She stared at me for a moment, "I'm not going to ask about his last name, but you're here because he's being bullied and isn't reaching out to get help with it."

"Right," Francis answered for me. She sighed a bit, muttering something that sounded vaguely like, “Not again,” and dialed a few numbers into the number pad next to her. Holding a finger up to us, she held the phone up to her ear.

After two audible rings, the door suddenly opened again, allowing for none other than Matthew to enter the scene. Glaring to the best of his ability, he kind of stormed over to the four of us and angrily susurrated, “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Mr. Gilmore,” the receptionist said into the phone. Matthew looked at us with bugged out eyes, confused. After a brief pause she continued, “Yes, we had another case reported. Do you have time this morning in power hour?” There was a voice on the other end that might have well been speaking in sotto voce, which seemed completely out of character for Mr. Gilmore--who probably should have been a P.E. teacher instead of the school counselor. “Wonderful,” she said in an inappropriately cheery voice. “Matthew Williams. I’ll write up a pass for him right now.”

Mattie spun around so fast it probably should have given him whiplash. “What did you do?” He was definitely irritated, his voice was almost at a normal speaking volume for anyone else. His gaze darting rapidly between the four of us, he suddenly lashed out at the trio. “How did you guys even find out? I never told you about any of this! This wasn’t _any_ of your business to begin wi...”

Randomly trailing off and breathing heavy, his face dropped towards the floor and his volume level suddenly returned to it’s normal murmuring. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I just wanted to handle this by myself. I’m sorry for yelling at you guys, just...tell me next time.” Why did he sound so ashamed of himself? He had a reason to be upset with us, I would have in his position. Besides, that was the most I had heard him say in about a month!

Coughing fakely to get our attention, the secretary handed a little purple slip to Matthew after saying, “What happens in this office stays in the office. And you four, get to school.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gilbert and Francis said in unison, while I simply said, “Yes’m,” and Antonio replied with a, “ _Sí, Señora_.”

“Where were you this morning? You showed up twenty minutes late,” Arthur pointed out as we trudged through the snow on our way home. Kicking some ice chunks, I shrugged a bit and said, “Matthew had a project that he had to take into school so Gil gave us a ride and we got it into the school and something broke so I had to help him fix it.”

“Oh,” Arthur said, obviously buying it. “What class was it for?” Stalling for a second, I quickly said, “Sp-science.” It earned me an odd look from him, but he shrugged it off after a couple more yards.

His friends never got in trouble for harassing him, and they still lingered around him sometimes in the hallway. We had started walking to most of our classes together so they never really got much of a chance to do anything except mutter less than flattering phrases about us. I knew Arthur must have noticed them at that point, he usually noticed everything before me...and sometimes even pointed out or explained things to me. Don’t judge. But I was kind of hoping that they would eventually give up on trying to pick on him and go back to their usual, miserable lives.

We didn’t talk much that day, probably because there wasn’t much to say. Or our minds were both off somewhere else. Soon enough I was back home, walking in the front door. “Hey, Mattie,” I called out waiting for him to respond. He didn’t, he barely ever did anymore.

Making my way into the living room, I found him sitting on the couch, staring vacantly out the window. Flopping down next to him, I pointed him in the ribs and asked, “How was your day?” Shrugging, he  looked back at me and muttered, “Could have been better.” Waiting patiently for him to give more information, eventually he gave in and said, “The six of them were taken out of class. Apparently they aren’t eminently convincing liars and I think they got suspended for a couple days.” There was a brief quiet before Matt sighed and said, “I have to go check in with Mr. Gilmore a couple more times in the next couple months. That’ll be just great.” It was always kind of amusing when Matthew used sarcasm, he usually didn’t get sassy like that.

Chuckling a bit, I said, “Well, from here on out it can only get better.” Shrugging, Matt said nothing and his gaze returned to the window. Shoving him gently, I happily said, “You know what, we should celebrate. Go grab Kumajirou and we can throw a wild party.” Rolling his eyes at me, he said in a hushed tone, “I would but I kind of don’t have him anymore.”

“What?” I exclaimed in total surprise. “What happened?”

“Randy took him.” After a minute he followed it up with a, “But I told Mr. Gilmore about it so I should get him back.” I was really starting to hate how distant and empty his stare was. Hugging him quickly, I said, “You know what, since Mom can’t tell us not to, we’re making pancakes.”

The corners of his mouth pulled up in a weak, small, shy smile.

I was starting to miss seeing him smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but angsty chapter. You're welcome. And I know I said I was going to get this out before I left on vacation, but guess who just couldn't focus enough to write.  
> Anyway this is also the chapter that I've been talking about for like the last three chapters because it's finally a chapter about Matthew! (Also take note and make guesses when it mentions he's never had a crush on anyone)  
> Also I just want to talk about the nicknames used in this chapter. Tonio and Franny you will more than likely see again in this story, Birdie may only be a one chapter thing, I'm not sure yet. I am also going to state that I do not ship Canada with anyone at the current moment, I know that Birdie is something that is used with PruCan, but just not in this story.   
> Changing the subject over to "the Middle School Experience," most of this stuff is based on true experiences. Sixth Graders are generally weirdly scared of people older than them and have no concept of the fact that they actually need to use deodorant. The Secretaries generally don't know you unless you get in trouble a lot (at least with my experience). Also Power Hour is the first twenty minutes of the day where you sit and "read" while a teacher hovers over you. I'm also going to point out that Middle School deals with bullying a lot harsher than they do at the High School, and it's probably only because they start giving up on you in High School.  
> There were also two different book references in this chapter. One was part of a line from "The Outsiders," if any of you have read that or can find it. And the other is "Yes'm," which was just an inside joke for the entire grade throughout Seventh Grade because we were all forced to read the same book where the characters say that constantly.  
> That's all I have to say about this chapter, but I am not going to leave before saying, keep a look out for some new stories I might be starting soon. I got a lot of AU ideas while on vacation that I'm thinking about writing. A couple of them will just be Oneshots and the others will be the first chapters to some longer stories that I will write after this.  
> That's all folks, thanks for reading!


	10. Some Eclipse of the Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Long chapter, profanity, sex jokes, mentions of suicide and gore, and foreign languages

Several days had passed when a car pulled up into our driveway. It was an old, bright red wrecker that probably shouldn't have even be running at that point. Hearing the car engine, Matthew and I peeked out the front window. Whoever were in the front seats argued for a bit before the driver shoved the passenger out the door.

As he got out, Matthew started fidgeting, nervous and anxious about something. The guy ran a hand through his hair, clutching something white in his fist, before banging loudly on the front door. Throwing me a quick glance, Matthew answered the door.

"Hey, Randy," he said in a hushed tone, still fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Randy, where had I heard that name before?  _Wasn't there some guy in a book named Randy?_  I thought as I walked over and stood a couple feet behind Matthew. Looking at him, realization swept over me. He was one of Matthew's friends from school. A knot twisted in the pit of my stomach and I stepped a bit closer to Matthew. Randy recognized me because his eyes got big in alarm.

Coughing a bit and rubbing the back of his neck, Randy said, "Hey, Matt. I, uh, thought you might want this back." He held out the white thing that had been scrunched up in his hand and dropped it into Matthew's. Staring at a slightly disfigured Kumajirou in his hands, Matthew stuttered out a, "Y-you took it?" Nodding shamefully, he rubbed at his neck again looking at his shoes.

"Man, I'm real sorry for how I was treating you...the others as well. Those girls twisted around the way we thought about everyone, but we shouldn't have actually listened to them." He chuckled dryly for a moment. "I guess that's easier said than done, though." Finally looking up, he sighed. "Matt, I turned into a real asshole this year and it was absolutely terrible how we've been treating you. I'm so sorry for what I did to you personally. The rumours that have been flying around about you, stealing your bear, not talking to you, stealing your homework so you'd get in trouble with your teachers...all of it."

Matt was visibly shaking a bit. Letting out a quivering breath, he replied, "Randy, you're all forgiven."

Surprised, his gaze snapped upward and his head cocked to the side. "I...what? I wasn't asking for you to forgive any of us! You have no reason to! Does that mean-"

"No," Matthew intoned, his voice oddly loud with finality in it, "we're not still friends and we probably never will be again." He was still quavering a bit, but something told me he could handle it on his own.

Randy gave him a nod, and muttered a, "Guess I'll see you around then." As he started to turn around and quickly said, "I told everyone the truth about the rumours Friday after school. Most of them know that you didn't do those things, and us getting suspended only back it up." He laughed a bit, no humour added.

"I also broke up with Marcia, so watch out for her."

"Like I wasn't already. Bye, Randle."

"Bye Matthew." With that, Randy hopped off the porch and walked down the little path to our driveway, putting an end to that part of the story.

Sighing a bit, Matt closed the door and looked down at the little stuffed bear in his hand. Rolling it over a couple times in his hands, he uttered to me, "We should throw him in the washer."

"Yeah, okay," I said, turning and moving towards the stairwell. Hopping down three steps at a time, Mattie followed after me "the safe way," nagging me about my "dangerous way" about going down stairs. Somethings will never change.

"Whatever dude," I said nonchalantly, landing at the base of the stairs and started to saunter off to the small, enclosed room on the right. The basement had never exactly been "finished." Sure there was paint covering the drywall, and Mom threw down a couple rugs in places to cover up the concrete, but in a couple rooms wiring and plumbing were still visible and none of the lights had covers. Barely anyone spent a lot of time down there, so it didn't really matter that much, but it bothered me. Our dad left before he had gotten around to most of the stuff and Mom didn't have the money or time to do it herself when she still cared. Over the years she had thrown some old furniture down there in a feeble attempt to make it look like it was actually habitable.

Opening the door to the boiling room, I pulled the string to turn the single lightbulb on. The washer and dryer sat in the corner, tucked away next to the boiler and heater. Jeez, how that room used to scare me to death when I was a kid. All the strange noises coming from it and how odd the shadows loomed in there, thanks to the single window near the ceiling. Flopping down on top of the dryer, I pulled the washing machine door open, pouring detergent into whatever that thing was called. Matt just threw the stuffed bear into the metal cylinder, slammed the door and sat down next to me while turning the knob.

We sat there for a while, feet swinging and the sound of the washer running drowning out any other noise. After quite a while, I asked over the rumble, "So what are you going to do at lunch?"

Smirking a bit, Matt randomly joked, "Haven't you ever heard of the bathroom?"

"Ha ha," I said sarcastically, something I had kind of picked up from Arthur. "But seriously who are you going to sit with? I'd totally offer if we weren't in different schools."

"There's a couple new kids that I sit next to in a couple classes, they knew me before the rumours started and didn't believe a word of it. I can probably sit with them if I ask."

"Good," I said, hopping off the machine as the buzzer rang. "Tell me how that works out Monday."

Thankfully it did work out for him. Monday he came home and eventually told me about the two new kids, Carlos and Lars, who he had started sitting with at lunch. Apparently, several others had decided to sit with him as well, after hearing Friday about what had really been going on.

Arthur had also been having a better time at lunch as well. Mostly everyone at the table was beginning to accept the fact that he had a permanent spot at the table; meaning people decided it was high time to actually try to talk to him instead of waiting for him to eventually give up and leave. Weirdly enough, he had started smiling more and his old friends actually gave up on him.

He and Matthew gradually started looking happier as the months progressed. Something in Matt filled again, allowing for his smiles and jokes to come back. Kumajirou sat on his bed, not having to actually go with him anymore. I stopped waking up to his tears in the night and the fact that he was actually sleeping soon became apparent as well.

Soon enough the school year was ending and Matthew was graduating from Middle School. The Bad Touch Trio were actually the ones who convinced me to sneak out of class that day. Not showing up to sixth hour, the four of us hid in the bathroom near the entrance until we heard the hoard of kids in Grade Eight come trampling through.

Quickly concealing ourselves in the mass, it was actually certainly difficult to pick anyone out. Imagine that. Next to me, Gilbert grumbled, "So many tall-short people." I guess he was trying to be funny to some extent, but I got the feeling that he was just bitter about just  _how many_  people were taller than him. That part was kind of humorous.

Sneaking into the auditorium where they held Grade Eight graduation  _every year_ , the four of us loitered near the back where there were no seats or teachers. Kids continued to file in separating into classes and sitting down in the ancient chairs. Honestly, we tried to watch for Matthew or my mom-she had some work meeting, but there was always the possibility that she skipped-but there was too big a crowd, too many kids.

Once they all seemed to be seated, Mr. Manders-the older than dirt middle school principal-tapped a couple times on the microphone, creating some mild feedback. "Hello?" he said in his old, rickety voice. "Can you hear me?" The student's chatter increased which he took as a "no."

Sighing in defeat, he pulled at the string that had been neatly hidden under his dress shirt. Elbowing Gil and nodding towards the stage, I watched his eyes widen as his face dropped and he blindly hit Franny and Antonio, trying to get their attention. Looking over at him, their gazes quickly transferred over to the stage where their faces lit up in panic as they clasped their hands over their ears, Gilbert and I following suit.

Probably half a second before we did so, Mr. Manders put that death whistle of torture into his denatured mouth, and blew into it like the Big Bad Wolf,  _right into the microphone_. An earsplitting screech tore through the speakers. All other noise was drowned in an ocean of squealing pain.  _I'm gonna do it,_  I could barely hear myself think as it droned on and on  _and on_. Eventually I managed to get my thoughts going again,  _I'm going to find out where he lives and shove that damned whistle down his throat._

After a moment, he decided to give our ears a break and took the accursed thing out of his mouth.  _I can use Gilbert as my get away._ No one probably would have complained if that whistle-or Mr. Manders-went mysteriously missing.

"Thank you," he said in monotone. "And welcome to the grade eight graduation. We want to congratulate you all on your work and your time..." Tuning him out, I looked over at Gil and whispered, "Are you willing to be my get away car if I break into his house in the middle of the night and shove that goddamn whistle down his throat?"

"Yes," he said quickly, before adding, "And you won't even have to pay me."

"Who's to bet that he sleeps with that thing more than his wife." That got a snicker out of Gilbert. The crusty old guy liked to blow on the whistle no matter what the occasion was, and it was usually near  _something_  that amplified its sound.

Looking over at the sound, Francis and Antonio forced themselves into our conversation. Elbowing him a bit, Francis raised an eyebrow at Gil, making him lean over to whisper to the two. A snort and a chuckle erupted from them, but no one seemed to hear us...or they just didn't care.

Still laughing a bit, Francis joked, "I bet the whistle is the only thing in the house getting blown." Smiling as we started snickering, Francis followed it up with, "That mouth should  _really_  be put to better use."

" _Mis dios,_  Francis," Tonio managed to get out with a smile. Still no one looked over at us, so I assumed we were being quiet enough.

"Davis, Gabriella," Mr. Manders called out in a tired tone. There was still a long way to "Williams," so I zoned back into our joke-fest.

"...the sun hasn't even seen," Gilbert finished, a smile plastered to his face. A small snort came out of Antonio while Francis just chuckled a bit. Smiling, pretending to have heard the joke, I rolled my eyes a bit when Gil looked my way.

"Screw you guys," Gilbert said, looking forward, "I'm hilarious."

"Whatever let's you sleep at night, dude," I said with a smile, earning me a whack on the shoulder.

"Jackson, Andrew," Mr. Manders droned on.  _There's this little thing called inflection and humour, buddy._  I thought, trying to send a mental message to him. Having tried the same thing all through middle school, I was doubtful of how well it would work.

"Why doesn't Matthew have the same last name as you again?" Antonio asked, bored and impatient.

"Antonio!" Francis scolded, hitting his arm, while Gil just muttered, " _Herr, wirf Hirn von Himmel._ "

"What? I was just wondering!"

"No, it's fine," I put in. "Most people ask at one point or another." Francis turned his attention back to whomever was on stage and Gil and Tonio looked back at me.

"Our dad left us before he was born so when he was my mom was so pissed off that she just went ahead and put her maiden name as his last name."

Gil nodded a bit before asking, "Is that legal?"

"No one stopped her." A snicker erupted from him, causing Franny to clamp a hand over his mouth. Putting a hand to his face in return, Gil tried to push Francis off him with no prevail. Within seconds they were slapping and hitting each other, actually causing a couple people to look back at us.

"Vargas, Feliciano." Antonio's head snapped in the direction of the stage. Whacking the both of them, I angrily whispered, "Guys it's Feli." They both perked up at that, hands falling to their sides and gazes shifting forward.

There was little Feliciano skipping up on stage, excited about getting a stupid certificate and an insincere "Congratulations." His older brother, Lovino, was in my grade. For some reason he hung out around Antonio a lot even though he acted as though he hated him. It was odd to see just how different the two were even though there was only a year between them. It occurred to me that people thought the same thing about Matthew and I.

Skipping up on stage, he happily bounced while the dinosaur in front of him spoke. "Congratulations on graduating." And that was all he said to anyone. Standing there for a few seconds, Feliciano quickly shuffled off stage, all bounce and perk leaving his step. Poor kid.

We were all friends with him, the trio was closer to him than I was, and I felt bad that he had to deal with Mr. Manders, the principal that hadn't cared in over three decades. That man could kill anyone's spirit with just a glance, not to mention the blasted whistle...

"Oh let's see," he said monotonously with a bored sigh, flipping his packet page over again. Searching slowly with his finger for the next name, he licked the lips he didn't have. After several seconds, he called out loudly with extreme dullness, "Williams, Matthew." Standing up a bit straighter, I searched the packed seating for someone getting up. Somehow, I missed him until he was actually walking up on stage, shoulders slouched a bit, playing with the hem of the sleeve of his dress shirt, gaze searching the audience wildly. Just before the blinding stage lights captured him, he caught sight of me. Giving him a slight nod and a thumbs up, a smile suddenly ripped across his face as he made his way over to Mr. Manders. "Congratulations," Mr. Manders said with ennui, shaking his hand for barely a second and handing him the cheap diploma. Letting out a quick sigh, he continued with a, "That concludes the Grade Eight Graduation Ceremony. Good luck next year in high school class of 2003."

"Such a way with words," Gil said sarcastically, wiping away a fake tear. Antonio chuckled at him as we quickly exited the auditorium.

People started pouring out of the double doors, chattering like birds in the morning when you're trying to sleep. We skimmed over the mass, keeping a distance from them all and trying not to catch the teacher's attention. Looking for Matthew, I wondered why it was so hard to find him, I saw him ever single day and his weird little curl should have been a dead give away. But no, we didn't see him until he was right in front of us.

"Hey, thanks for showing up guys," he said in an undertone, smiling at us.

"You're welcome," Gilbert returned, smirking. "As long as Mr. Goudie doesn't figure out what happened, otherwise I'm going to kick you-"

Delivering a hard, subtle kick to his shins, Gil shut his mouth and I continued with a, "I don't really like my sixth hour anyway. Thanks for graduating." Mattie smirked a bit, rolling his eyes.

Francis ruffled his hair, with a grin and a, "We'll make sure you're freshman experience was better than ours, don't worry."

"Yeah," Tonio followed up beaming, "the Bad Touch Trio has your back!" His head lolled to the side giving away that he was actually trying to be cliche. Laughing a bit, Matthew simply stated, "Alright, I have to go now. See you guys later." Then he hustled off to join the last of his classmates.

Just as he got out the glass doors, the bell rang, admitting everyone out of class. "I'll see you guys," Antonio said with smile, looking off into a group of people and then rushing off into the crowd. Francis muttered something about them being "so cute," with a grin spreading across his face. "I should get going myself," he said, ruffling both our hair and finishing with an, " _Au revoir._ " And then he was gone as well.

Flattening his hair and shaking his head a bit in disgust, Gilbert looked over at me for a second, before his elbow made slight contact with my ribs. "Gotta go find West. No small fires," he said to me as he stalked off, down the hallway.

That happened practically every day, assumably. Some days I would meet up with one or two from the Trio and something like that would happen within a minute or so. I was okay that they left me standing alone in the main hall, I just found it weird how they were actually capable of hanging out with other people besides each other. Smirking to myself, I headed down the Literary Hallway.

Last hour I had journalism down that hall. Arthur had ended up in the same hour, making that the only class we had together. I don't know why I had decided to sign up for it; probably because the teacher was one of my former football coaches, or the fact that it was just long enough to fill my last semester. Whatever it was, I was sort of glad that I had took it. Even though we were supposed to be writing articles for the school newspaper, I could convince Arthur to stop being so uptight for a while and goof off. Since he was one of the teacher's favourites, whenever we got caught, he could play it off as he was trying to help me and we accidentally got off topic.

"Alfred!"  _Speak of the devil._  "Where  _were_  you?" Arthur practically boomed, marching over to me.

"There's my favourite Brit!" I exclaimed, turning to meet his gaze and throwing an arm around his shoulders. Thrown aback for a moment, he shoved my arm off of him and snapped, "Again, where  _were_  you, Alfred? Do you know how many times Mr. Kendall called your name?  _Eight!_  Do you know how awkward it was when everyone looked at me, expecting me to  _know_  the magical answer, when I had no bloody  _clue_?" His ears and cheeks were flushed. I just smiled.

"Matthew had his graduation ceremony and our Mom had some work meeting that she couldn't get out of, so I skipped class and watched him get a cheap diploma and fake 'Congratulations.'" I explained as we started down the linoleum tiled hall.

A snicker escaped from Arthur and with a smirk he aggravatedly stated, "That was sweet Al, but you're an  _idiot._ " I smiled a bit, shoving him playfully, I jokingly told him to shut up. He simply chuckled and retorted, "That'll be the day."

Somewhere behind us, from a voice I didn't recognize, someone shouted, "Alfred and Arthur!" Our heads snapped back in the general direction from the call, but no one presented themself as the source. A second after they had our attention, they followed it up with a, "Just kiss already!"

Freezing a bit in the flow of people, my face dropped for about half a second.  _You always could,_  I told myself before smirking a bit and I shouting back, "There's no PDA in the lobby!" Several snickers and giggles erupted from the mass of people.

Blushing a bit, Arthur just glared at the backs of the people in front of us as we continued on.  _What's his problem?_ I wondered looking at him a bit. It's not like we would have actually  _kissed_  or anything. We were friends,  _just_  friends. I got that  _he_  was gay and everything, but it wasn't like he would have actually  _like_  me  _that_  way. Besides, I  _didn't_  want to kiss him either.  _Get a hold of yourself, Alfred,_  I panickedly thought.  _You've had a girlfriend before, you can't like dudes. Right?_

Coming to the decision that thinking wasn't helping much, I randomly asked, "So what else did I miss in journalism, besides you  _dying_  of embarrassment?"

"Shut up," he said a bit coldly. "But you missed all of the same old bad literary puns, which are  _so_  entertaining." He rolled his eyes as he pushed open the door to the outside. "And the paper has to be done by next Wednesday, so we can put them together Thursday and have a free day Friday."

"Fun," I smirked, shoving my hands into my shorts' pockets. "I guess I'll  _actually have to work_  tomorrow."

"I'm not writing another article for you, Al, just so you don't fail."

Laughing a bit, I calmly replied, "I wasn't going to ask you to."

"Whatever," he said with an eyeroll.

I never did get that final article done completely. Wednesday I managed to make myself focus enough to get it to a point where it sounded done. Ending the semester with passing grades, I spent the last two days of school stressing over passing exams. Arthur found them, "awfully easy, really. The teachers repeated all that information several times if you listened." Smart people just never understand the struggles of the dumb.

Soon enough school let out and Mattie and I were in the back of Gil's car, Antonio squished between us, windows down. We had only had the radio on for thirty seconds when "Pretty Fly" came on and there was an uproar of approval. We spent the majority of the car ride home blasting that and sing-screaming along to it.

"AND ALL THE GIRLS SAY, I'M PRETTY FLY! FOR A WHITE GUY!" We shouted in unison, except Matthew who just laughed at us. Tonio, Gil and I tried to flip what little hair we had to the song with no such luck. Franny just snickered at us, while Matthew chuckled, "You three might just cause a crash!" There was a smile plastered to his face, but I got the feeling he was being serious...mostly.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Gil got out over the music. "I do what I want!"

Antonio followed it up with something like, "Too soon, Gil." What that meant, I had no idea, but I decided not to question it.

We had started going home together on the last day of school in third or second grade, but since the Bad Touch Trio was a year older than me and two older than Matt, there was a two year gap where we were unable to. A couple years we had all tried to cram into a single seat on the bus for the entire ride. Now  _that_  had been fun! But it had ended in two of us getting stuck between the seats when the bus randomly braked.

"...SO HE BOUGHT VANILLA ICE!" Suddenly I realized that I had missed most of the verse and I was staring out the window. Laughing a bit, I joined back in with the off tune choir. "Now, cruising in his Pinto, he sees homies as he pass, but if he looks twice, they'RE GONNA KICK HIS LILY ASS!"

The song continued on with us yelling along to its lyrics. If anyone had any complaints about our taste in music, they didn't vocalize it, so we didn't stop.

"OH THE WORLD LOVES WANNABES! SO LET'S GET SOME MORE WANNABES! And HEY! HEY! DO THAT DO-NAH BRA-NU-THAG" Our singing died off in the mumbling of being unable to tell what the singer was actually saying, just as Gilbert pulled on to Symphony Lane.

Smiling as he turned the radio down a bit, Antonio loudly announced, "This is going to be the summer!" After we all stared at him for a while, he elaborated, "This is going to be the summer we look back at in twenty years and be like, 'Oh yeah! That was hilarious.' I can just feel it!"

Gilbert just clapped him on the back, chuckling, "Okay, broha." While Francis shook his head a bit, smiling as well. Matthew and I just gave him a smile and didn't say anything for once.

Just after, Gil pulled into our driveway and yelled, "Now get your asses outta my car!"

"We're going!" I yelled back, collecting my stuff and throwing open the door. Getting out, I said, "Bye guys! Don't do anything fun without me!"

"Oh please, Al," Franny responded, while Mattie just followed up with a, "Thanks for the ride."

As soon as we were out and away from the car, Gilbert tore out and down the street.  _Who gave him a driver's license?_  I wondered in awe as I watched him almost take out a mailbox.  _And I have actually gotten in that car and let him drive like that all year._

Turning my attention away from the street, I said to Matt, "So summer... What'cha wanna do?"

A smirk pulled at his mouth and he simply replied, "Burn all my school stuff."

And with that, summer began.

Having become bored within the first couple days, I started going over to Arthur's practically everyday. Mom thought it was sweet and didn't protest, she even let him in when he snuck over in the middle of the night-he tried to get in through my window but climbing up onto the roof is harder than it seems, even with the tree in the yard. Several times, he came over around one or two in the afternoon and physically got me out of bed. Usually I woke up on the floor with him sitting on my bed, reading a book.

Matt for some reason didn't protest about getting woken up by him-whether it was one in the morning or the afternoon. Usually he just grinned at us and either just rolled over with the pillow over his head, or just got up-depending on what time it was. Sometimes I swear I heard him mumble something about a ship.

June flew by, and then it was July. Having decided on the second, Mattie was more excited for the day after his birthday than even phased by the fact that we almost forgot about it on the first.  _Almost_ , we  _almost_  did. I remembered around eight and made the excuse of taking him out to a movie to give mom enough time to make him a cake and wrap his presents. He probably figured it out as soon as we got home and mom presented to him messy cake with random patches of vanilla frosting on it-apparently she ran out of chocolate and improvised. After we all had a slice or two-or five-Mom agreed to just buying us one the next day. She might have been a chef, but she could  _not_  bake a cake for the life of her.

The second rolled around and for once, I actually woke up at a "reasonable" time, meaning I got out of bed at eleven instead of two. Having showered, dressed, and not fallen back to sleep, I went into the kitchen for "breakfast." Sitting at the table eating a couple slices of cold pizza the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," I yelled to whomever cared, taking my pizza with me to the door.

Opening the door, I made eye contact with a boy I'd never seen before in my life. He was probably around fourteen or fifteen, heavy set, with a slight mustache. I had to give him a round of applause on how well he took care of his skin, which was practically flawless, and I was tempted to give him a high-five on the dreadlocks.

We stood there staring at each other for a moment before I simply stated, "Al. You?"

"Carlos," he answered back unsurely, giving me a weird look. I just nodded and yelled over my shoulder, "Matt one of your friends is here!"

There was a loud bang from somewhere upstairs, followed by a faint, "One second!" Carlos looked at me wide-eyed, glancing nervously back behind me. It took me a couple seconds to register what it was about as I stepped aside, letting him into the house. "He'll be fine," I said to him, proceeding to continue eating my cold pizza.

As I walked back into the kitchen I heard him whisper, "Some brother you are." Almost shooting something back at him, I was interrupted by Mattie's sudden appearance. "Hey Carlos!" he called happily, hanging off the railing of the stairs a bit.

Carlos smiled a bit, cheerfully replying, " _Hola._ " It took me about a full minute to comprehend the switch in language, and by then I felt stupid, after taking a full year of Spanish to fill a foreign language credit.  _Goddammit._

"...ready met, this is my brother Alfred."

"Are you two twins?" he asked, the curiosity in his voice apparent.

"Nope," I answered, finishing off my pizza slice. "He's almost a full year younger than me." Shooting me a  _thanks-for-that_  look, Matt followed my  _brilliant_  statement up with a, "Anyway, you wanna hang out upstairs?"

"Sure." And then I was alone with the muffled sound of them talking as my only background noise. For a couple minutes, I considered calling Kiku up just to have someone to talk to, but then it was evoked to me that I had invited him as well so he was probably already on his way over.  _Screw this,_ I thought, flopping onto my back on the couch. Thankfully I was only there for a couple minutes before there was someone pounding at our door.

Swinging it open, I excitedly got out, "Hey!"

"Hey!" Jett yelled, practically tackling me to the ground. My head hit the floor with a  _ **THUD**_ but it weirdly didn't hurt automatically. Pushing him off of me, I asked, "Did you miss me?"

"Not one bit," he retaliated with a smirk. Hitting him on the shoulder, I got up off the floor to close the door, a sharp pain poking its way through my skull. Jett picked up his bag and strutted into the living room, blissfully unaware of the stake in my brain.

"Someone else is here, mate!" Jett was suddenly right behind me watching for who it was. The back doors opened, leading me to be confused for a minute.  _I don't_ remember  _anyone having a twin,_  I thought, knitting my eyebrows together a bit.

An ashy blond head ducked out of the low-ceiling Mustang, and I stared at him trying to figure out who it was. For a quick second his face was too blurry for me to see, but it focused and I just shrugged it off as something that had to do with the beating my head took. Smirking as the second head bobbed out of the back, I opened the door a bit more and yelled, "Hey, you guys!"

Kiku's and Eduard's head snapped up in my direction, smiles spreading over their faces. "Need help with anything?" Jett called leaning over me.

"No, thank you," Kiku yelled back pulling his out of the back, while Eduard said a simple, "You wish, Jett." Clutching his chest dramatically, whipping his head to the side, in a mock-serious tone, Jett stated, "Ya wound me, Ed."

"Please don't call me that!"

"Ed, Edd and Eddy!" Jett sung from the doorway, as they approached.

"You watch cartoons?" Kiku questioned quietly, though he never got a response.

The mustang pulled out of the driveway and tore down the street without so much of a "goodbye." Raising an eyebrow I nodded my head in the direction that it left. Eduard just gave a quick shrug and answered back, "I have a friend who's a junior." Accepting the answer, I didn't question more of it and let the two of them inside, ignoring the throbbing pain in my head.

Jett flopped back down on our couch and loudly asked, "Ya guys got food?"

"My mom will be back later with a cake," I answered simply, definitely feeling the tackle then.

"Should I put my bag up in your room, Alfred?" Kiku questioned behind me.

"Nah," I said with a shrug and a grin, "Matt and his friends claimed that. We get the basement." He just nodded a bit, leading to an odd silence.

After a moment, I decided on at least doing and saying something. "We can go down there right now if you don't want to hang out up here." There was another nod from Kiku, Eduard simply shrugged, while Jett did a flying leap off the couch, grabbing his bag, and yelling, "Beat ya down there!"

We watched him race down the stairs, before I spoke up with a, "Or if you're like Jett, you make the decision for the group." There was no chuckle or laugh in response, only a smile and a couple nods. I really did have a weird mix of friends.

"We should follow him," Ed said, taking off in the same direction that Jett had gone with Kiku and I right behind him.

The three of us barely got halfway down the steps when there was a loud  _ **CRASH**_ from somewhere at the bottom. "I meant to do that!" Jett called out in response to the noise. Moving a bit quicker, we walked into the room to find an old recliner tipped backwards with Jett laying in it, feet high in the air.

"Man, don't break anything," I whined a bit walking over to help him up just as he hopped up off the floor and picked the chair up.

"Can I almost break things then?"

"Don't you da-" the doorbell suddenly rang from upstairs, making Ed jump a bit and my head snap backwards towards the sound of the noise. From about two floors up, I vaguely heard Matt yell, "I got it Al!"

"Okay!" I shouted back over my shoulder, as Kiku sat down next to his bag, Jett flopped back into the recliner, and Eduard placed his bag in a corner. Standing kind of awkwardly in the almost centre of the room, I fiddled with the hem of my shorts a bit.

There were voices upstairs. Matt's I recognized every time he spoke, but there was another one I couldn't place. No one came downstairs after a couple moments, so I naturally just assumed it was one of his friends.

"So how's your guys' summers?" I asked, now leaning back against a white painted wall.

"Well I wasn't shipped off for once, and I'm beginning to realize just how cold it is here even in the summer," Jett reported with a smirk. Chuckling a bit, I joked, "Welcome to Michigan where things are frozen eleven months out of the year. But, man, that one month when it isn't, that's the best." It earned me a snicker from Eduard, and a chuckle from Jett. Kiku just sat on the ground, smiling slightly.

The bang of the front door slamming echoed from upstairs. Mildly surprised that Mom came back so earlier from the...wherever she went-she liked to talk  _a lot_ -I moseyed over to the based of the stairwell and vociferated, "Hey, Mom. Why are you back early?"

"I'm not your mum!" a clearly male voice shouted back in an borderline hostile tone. Looking over in the direction of the sound, Kiku happily greeted him with a, "Hello, Arthur!"

There was a hurried moment of confused silence before Arthur appeared at the top of stairs and replied, "Okay, Kiku is actually here, and hello."

"Ya just let yourself in?" Jett question, now the one leaning against the wall.

A blush started creeping along Arthur's already sunburnt cheeks, as he simply responded, "Yes." Shrugging it off a bit, Jett and Eduard didn't say anything in response to his answer, whilst Kiku got out a little notebook and proceeded to scribble something down.

Thankfully the delicate, uncomfortable moment passed quickly. Apparently everyone in the neighbourhood-who I actually talked to-decided to show up at our house at the same time.

"My mom invited her parents over from Estonia to stay for the summer," Eduard began, trying to start up some sort of conversation. "They just got here last week and can barely speak English. Do you know how hard it is to try to 'talk to your grandparents' when they have no idea what you're saying and vice versa?"

"Ever try talking to my brother Jack and you will," Arthur replied cooly, a blush tinting his cheeks and a smirk pulling at his mouth. Why did the way his face look make my heart skip a beat?

Randomly, the entire scene seemed to fall out of focus for a moment, everyone becoming blurred figures.  _What the...?_  was the only thing that crossed my mind before everything readjusted and went back to normal. Blaming it again on the betting my head had taken, I tried to force myself back into the conversation.

"...and he never gets anything I tell him!" Jett complained, arms unfolding and leaning forward off the wall.  _Wait, what?_  I thought trying to figure out who he was probably talking about. Who was 'he?' Crap, I really needed to pay better attention.

"Are all brothers hard to speak with?" Kiku questioned from the floor, looking up at us expectantly.

Shrugging a bit, I simply, sincerely stated, "Matt isn't too bad, most of the time, unless he started talking about biology and stuff. Then he gets confusing."

"Biology is easy, mate!" Jett exclaimed, mildly offended.

"Whatever, dude," I started before being abruptly cut off by a heavy  _ **pang**_  that came from one of the windows. Since the two windows were basically at ground level, it wasn't an anomaly for a small animal to run into one every once in a while. But they  _never_  hit the windows hard enough to be  _that_  loud.

Our five heads spun suddenly to the source of the sound to see someone crouched outside smiling at us like a mad-man. Tapping on the window pane a couple times, Gilbert made a couple hand motions to someone inside and proceeded to start to take the window out of the frame.

In the time it took me to register what he was actually  _doing_ , he was wiggling his way inside, feet first. "What the hell are you doing?" I asked, sounding border-line irritated. With a soft thump, he landed feet first onto the concrete, threw his hands in the air and shouted, "The awesome me has arrived so you may rejoice!" An arrogant smirk was plastered to his face.

"There's a thing called a door!" I yelled at him, stalking over and hitting him a couple times on the back, a smile starting to spread across my face. Quickly throwing his arm around my shoulders, Gil pulled me down into a headlock and yelled somewhere behind him, "I've got him! It's okay to come in now!"

"Say what?" I asked dumbly, struggling to get out of his grasp.

"Gilbert,  _mon ami_ , no," I heard Franny finalize from somewhere outside. "I am  _not_  getting this shirt dirty by getting on the ground. I'm going through the door."

"Killjoy!" Gilbert stated exaggeratedly loudly. A couple seconds later, there was another thump and someone crashed into my back, knocking Gilbert and me over onto the cold concrete. " _Hola_ ," Antonio stated sheepishly, getting off of us and helping us up.

Gilbert grinned again, slapping him on the back and saying, "At least someone else is almost as awesome as me." I could see Arthur rolling his eyes at the statement. Jett chuckled a bit and asked, "What ya doing here, mate? Usually I only see ya at soccer!"

"Well," Gil started, holding out each sound in the word, "if Francis would HURRY UP AND GET HIS BUTT DOWN HERE, I could tell you! But, alas-"

"Stop complaining, Gilbert, I am here!" Francis pointed out, jumping off the last step and hurrying over to the other two. Gil's smirk got wider as he loudly announced, "We are the Bad Touch Trio and we are here to fuck shit up!"

Shaking his head a bit in mild disgust, Francis followed it up with a, "He's wanted to do that all year." Eduard looked a bit confused, and Kiku started fiddling with his pen and notepad, while Arthur kept shooting Francis glowers. Jett on the other hand sauntered up basically shouting, "Look what the cat brought in! How are ya, mates?" He slapped both Gil and Tonio on the back a couple times.

"Still as awesome as ever!" Gilbert announced to the already aware world.

"Just great, and how are you Jett?" Antonio responded, ruffling his hair a bit. It took me a couple seconds to remember that Antonio was also a big soccer player as well and that's how the two were acquainted.

"Freezing up here, mate! Does it just never get warm?" He was joking. It was almost ninety degrees fahrenheit outside, which he would always describe as "comfortable." What messed most people up was that he only stayed in Australia for three months maximum and was located here through the winter, when there was usually five feet of snow and sub-zero temperatures. Maybe he just liked the extremes of both temperatures or something? Who knew. Jett was crazy and that would probably never change.

Tonio and Gil laughed at him a bit, stating that they figured as much from him. Pretty much anyone knew knew anything about Jett would expect such a response, being as predictable as he was.

It was a second or so later that the sound of footsteps in the stairs became audible. Glancing over my shoulder long enough to see Matthew come into view, his one hispanic friend-Carlos or something-and some really tall kid behind him. The latter I hadn't met yet and I assumed he was the one I heard talking with Matt earlier. Blond hair spiked up, lips slightly pursed, his icy pop bottle green eyes ran up and down me before glancing over at Matt. Jeez he was unnerving.  _Why's Mattie hanging out with him?_  I questioned to myself, trying to keep a pretty open mind to him...trying to.

A chuckle randomly escaped from Matt when his gaze landed on the trio. "I should have assumed as much," he got out with a grin.

"Hey, Birdie! Wondering where you were!" Gilbert requited, same joyful looked spreading across his face once again. At the same moment, while sashaying over to him, Francis basically yelled out, " _Mattieu!_ "

"Hello, Francis," Mattie respond, smile turning into something unusually similar to a smirk as Franny threw an arm around him. His two friends behind him threw each other a couple of confused looks. After several almost silent seconds, Carlos chimed in with a, " _Hola_ , I'm Carlos. I don't really know most of you."

Antonio's eyes got big and his grin wider. " _¿Hablas español?_ " he spluttered out excitedly. Bug-eyed, Carlos smiled a bit and happily responded, " _Sí, ¿cómo te llamas?_ "

" _Soy Antonio_ ," he said smirking a bit and motioning toward Gilbert and Francis continued with, " _Ésten son mis amigos, Gilbert y Francis._ "

A chuckled escaped from Carlos as he nodded back at the tall silent dude behind him and stated, " _Éste es Lars. Es callado ves._ "

" _Veo,_ " Antonio followed up, grinning like a mad man. Gilbert had a scandalized, befuddled look going towards his friend beside him. Seconds after Antonio gave his last statement, Gil spat out, "English!"

Carlos shot him a subtle glare while Tonio laughed it off with a, "I don't get after you with your German."

"Well that's because German is awesome!" Gil countered, looking wounded. Laughing a bit, I frankly told him, "Whatever lets you sleep at night" to which he flipped me off, making me snort. At that point Arthur was standing behind me, trying not to draw attention to himself whilst angrily watching Francis and Gilbert hug and head-lock Matthew playfully. Eventually he jabbed me in the arm and nodded towards the three, eyes narrowed. Smiling at him sheepishly, I just shrugged it off as though they did that a lot...which they did  _sometimes_.

Over the noise of Spanish babble and general English chatter, I heard the front door slam as though it had been kicked. That was followed several seconds later by the clicking of heels on hardwood and the shouting of, "I have cake!"

"Cake!" Jett and I exclaimed simultaneously, squeezing past the five people in the stairwell and racing upstairs. Gilbert sprinted after us a few milliseconds later with Antonio on his heels.

Skidding to a halt in the kitchen, three people crashed into me from behind almost taking me down to the floor. Mom never looked back at us as she started delicately forcing candles into the cake. "Hello boys!"

"Hello miss Jones," Kiku said, entering the kitchen behind us. She laughed a bit and half glanced back for barely a second. "Kiku I have known you since you were eight," she said with a chuckle, "I really think it's about time you call me 'Miss Amy,' don't you think? And that goes for all of you." She added on the last sentence as she heard the last of the footsteps stop.

Finally turning around to get more candles out of the drawer, her eyes landed on the trio. Another laugh escaped her as she rhetorically asked, "Why am I not surprised? The party crashers have arrived."

They all smirked at the comment, seemingly proud of it for some reason. Pulling a second pack of candles, she turned back around to put the last fifteen of the thirty-one candles into the cake. Since we shared a cake anyway, Mom had decided a long time ago that she might as well divide it in half and put the correct number number of candles in for each of us. We were positive that one day that there would be more candles than actual cake, we had yet to see the day.

"When did all of you get here? I wanna know how long I left all y'all here alone," she asked, still focused on the candles. Matthew and I had made our way over and had started helping her but she slapped our hands simultaneously. "Go back to your friends," she told us with a light glare. "You two take up too much space in here now anyway." Mattie just backed away with his hands up, while I rolled my eyes a bit and smirked. There were a couple chuckles that came out of my friends, so I just stuck my tongue out at the lot of them.

"I got here maybe ten minutes 'go," Jett responded to her earlier question which was followed up by Ed saying, "And Kiku and I got here just a couple minutes after him." Turning around as they spoke, Mom starting digging in a door for a lighter. "Okay, that's not too bad." Then her attention turned to Matt's two friends and she pointed out, "You two I don't know. Names?"

"I'm Carlos," the not-so-little Hispanic cheerfully introduced. Smiling at him, she said it was nice to meet him, and then turned expectantly to...Lars? After a minute he realized she was looking at him and he said, "I'm Lars."

"It can speak," she joked quickly before continuing on with, "and you two got here...?"

"I was first here, probably fifteen or twenty minutes ago, and Lars showed up about ten minutes after me." Mom just nodded, as she kicked us out of the way and moved the cake to the table.

"Alright, so the triplets probably just got here then?" she questioned, giving them a look.

"Yes," Gilbert and Francis answered in unison, leaving it simply at that. Antonio, on the other hand, built off of that with, "We broke in through your window in the-" The other two managed to get their hands over his mouth at that point, cutting his sentence off short. She laughed heartily at them, starting to light candles.

Taking part in the small, semicircle the rest of them had started to form, I took my place back by Arthur, whom muttered something like, "What an  _interesting_  mother you have." Or something like that. I wasn't really listening because Gilbert crashed into me saying, "Oh sorry Al, you're taking up too much space." He then proceeded to lean into me more and more. Chuckling a bit, I just rolled with it jokingly saying, "Sorry, sir" every time Gil almost knocked me over.

That only lasted a minute before Mom shouted from three feet away, "Alright, sit your asses down for cake!" Mom's command got a couple chuckles out of the Trio, Jett and I think Carlos. Once again, I heard Arthur mumble something about my mom being interesting. I don't know why, she seemed like a pretty normal to me. Then again I didn't talk to a lot of moms and usually my friends' moms only said two words to me when I was over.

"Sitting our asses down for cake," Matt and I fought each other for the seat at the front of the table before I just threw my legs over his so we could share. When I did, he just gave me a look that was either "Are-you-serious" or "I-will-actually-murder-you." My only response was a smile and a shrug. Probably no one else noticed or cared because no one said anything, but Mom rolled her eyes at me.

And thus began the Ancient Birthday Ceremony with the out-of-tune singing you could only get from a large group of teenagers. It was seriously like they had never sang a day before in their life. But it was over in under a minute so the suffering didn't last too long, thankfully.

Blowing out the candles took a lot longer than it should of. Mom had joked for the longest time how one year she was going to buy trick candles and embarrass us in front of everyone as we tried to blow them out. It had finally became  _that_  year. So we blew the candles out about four or five times before it finally dawned on us. Mom was turning a bit red as she tried to hold in a laugh. "Seriously, Mom?" Mattie and I asked together. She just doubled over laughing in response.

A Mom can only be cool if she's not yours.

After cake was dished out and we ate about three fourths of it, Mom offered to let us open presents since her camera wasn't completely dead yet. We agreed to it and most of the guys ran back downstairs to grab something out of their bags.

I ended getting a couple decks of pokemon cards from Kiku, Eduard just gave me money-not that I was complaining or anything-while Arthur bought me the Star Wars trilogy, and Jett gave me a string with a shark tooth on it. The Bad Touch Trio pitched in all together and bought me keys. A complete ring just full of keys that went to who knows what. They also requested to come with me when I figured it out.

Matt received a gift card to some ice cream joint down the street from Carlos, and Lars got him a couple biology books. Both made his face light up like a Christmas tree as boring as they may seem. The Trio also "pitched in" and got him a huge deck of vintage hockey player cards. A couple were signed and others Matt claimed were "really hard to find," to which all three of them nearly died because they apparently bought them all for about a dollar at some thrift shop.  _Nice to know._

Most of that went by fairly quickly and wasn't awfully interesting, so I will spare you the horribly drawn out details of it all. Matthew and his two friends decided to accompany us back downstairs as we made our descend where we sat chatting about nothing and boredly sitting waiting for something to happen. It was at the end of those five minutes that Matthew suggested something that we could  _actually_  work with.

"We could always go outside. The weather's nice," he offered glancing around at everyone. Eduard gave a smiling shrug to it, while Arthur and Kiku politely agreed to it with, "Okay." Jett leaped out of the recliner and exclaimed, "Yes! Let's go!" Antonio and Francis agreed just after Jett's command, while Gilbert put in a "Whatever, Birdie." Matt's friends had concurred at some point at well, I just never noticed.

So once again, we ascended up the stairs, pulling on shoes and walking through the kitchen. Mom was washing plates and silverware in the sink when she stated, "Don't even ask, I will have food for you later," without even turning around. A couple snickers came from Jett, Gil and Carlos, so I smirked and answered, "We'll do it later then."  _Probably shouldn't go into comedy_ , I told myself as no one laughed or chuckled at it.

A minute or so later we had all piled outside and were walking around to the back yard. It was within this time range that Gilbert came up with an " _awesome_ " idea. As we trooped through the grass, GIlbert started smirking, which was first noticed by Francis who elbowed Antonio in the ribs sneering as well. We noticed this all when Antonio randomly busted out laughing.

"What?" Arthur coarsely asked, glaring at Francis' smirk. Answering his snap, Francis happily replied, "We should have a water balloon fight." Arthur's face dropped a bit when there was an uproar of approval for the idea from Jett, Matt and I, followed by Ed and Lars agreeing as well. Carlos was in there somewhere-I seriously could not pay attention to him for the life of me-and Arthur finally gave in when he realized everyone else wanted to.

"Awesome," Gilbert said smiling. "I will be right back." After running off to the bushes beside the house, he somehow managed to produce two large bags of balloons, much to the surprise of everyone but the Bad Touch Trio. Tossing a bag into the middle of the group we had formed, Kiku caught the bag while Gilbert ordered, "Start filling," and turned on the hose that hung off the side of the house.

With all eleven of us filling balloons we got through both bags in about five minutes. Somewhere in the middle of that I heard Matt ask in a hushed tone, "Arthur, are you alright?"

"Course I am," he answered back automatically. I don't know why Matt thought there was anything wrong, Arthur looked fine enough. He didn't look like he did back in the locker or bathroom, not even in the slightest. I just shrugged the whole short conversation off and help Gilbert divide people into teams, which didn't last long.

It started out with Matt, Carlos, Lars, Ed, Gil and Jett on one team and Tonio, Franny, Art, and Kiku on mine. To be honest, Matthew probably got the better team to start with.

Clumping together in the on the grass, no one was entirely sure how to start the whole thing until Gilbert chucked one hitting me in the face. I threw one back, missed and hit Carlos in the side.  _Wasn't who I was aiming for but close enough_. Francis-I think-threw a green plastic blob of water at Matthew, hitting him in the shoulder. Matt threw back but hit Arthur. Then I lost track of who threw what, all I knew was that I hit Lars a couple times but he missed me when he tried to get me back. I also hit Gilbert in the face once and the plastic stuck over his nose.

At one point, I saw Arthur hit Francis in the face with a balloon, taking the opportunity in the chaos. Dazed for a second, Francis looked over at me and whipped on at me hitting me in the side. "Hey!" I exclaimed chucking one back, but it came in contact with Antonio. Gilbert actually fell over from laughing so hard at us. Tonio and Francis managed to hit him with a couple balloons at the same time while Carlos smashed a balloon into Lars' hair. Lars retaliated but ended up whipping a balloon into Ed's ribs as Carlos ducked behind him.

It had gone from five against six to every man for himself...for like twenty seconds before we all ran out of balloons. By then we were all beaming and cachinnating while picking multicoloured bits of plastic out of our hair.

"You're welcome for the awesome idea," Gilbert said, bowing, red in the face. There was still a popped balloon stuck to the top of his ear, making him look a bit elfish. None of us told him about it until it just plain fell off, much to our disappointment, as we trudged back inside. Mom met us at the door.

"No, not in my house," she said looking us over, her voice bearing more disapproval than her face. "All y'all have to dry off before coming back in. I'm  _not_  mopping."

Not wanting to challenge her, we all sat out on the usually sun baked lawn which was now a giant mud pit, the summer sun searing our backs. The peaceful sitting only last maybe a good two minutes, before boredom bore down on pretty much just Gilbert and Jett.

Normally when someone rips up handfuls of grass to put on the person sitting next to them, mud doesn't come with it. Unfortunately for Gilbert and Antonio's shorts, this time it did.

Tearing the grass up without really looking at it, Gilbert lazily let it fall into Antonio's lap, who jumped seconds later and glared at him. "Hey," he exclaimed, irritation working its way in. Ripping up a handful of bespattered lawn, he smashed it into Gilbert's dark tank top.

His angry gaze cutting into Gilbert, yanked up a fistful of dirt and maybe grass and chucked it. Of course Antonio managed to get out of the range of fire, so it flew past him into the side of Carlos' head. Bug-eyed Gilbert ducked behind Francis as Carlos looked over at him as him as though he was about to murder him.

Naturally with things such as this, Carlos whipped back a mud ball and it of course landed on Kiku. His eyes shot open so they were unnaturally large and he cautiously reached up to wipe it off his shoulder. Since he wasn't going to lash out about it, I decided to do that for him.

"Hey!" I yelled at Carlos, throwing one back at him. Even though I was a baseball pitcher, I ended up missing him and hitting Matthew.  _Smooth, Al._

Ignoring everyone's previous examples of just throwing dirt and sod back, Mattie got up, calmly walked over and freaking  _tackled me_  into the ground. "Matt!" I cried out when he landed on top of me, elbow digging into my ribs. "Sorry, Al," he said into my ear as he started to roll off of me.

In the maybe two seconds he was on top of me, chaos unleashed around us. Just as I was relieved of being crushed by Matthew's weight, Gilbert came crashing down into my stomach. Flinching a tiny bit, I tried to sit up just as he bounced back up and basically jumped on Antonio.  _It's like we started a bar fight..._  I thought as I just stared in awe at the scene before me.

Gilbert was smashing mud into Antonio's hair who was just trying to get him off of him. Arthur had knocked Francis down into sludge who was now yelling at him for, "ruining his outfit."  _Oh Franny, let it go._

Kiku sat silently off to the side just watching everything go down and trying to get mud off of him, Lars was as well as I later realized. Carlos mostly just sat back, sometimes randomly throwing a handful of mud at someone. I caught sight of Eduard calmly getting up and sitting by the side of house, mud splattered along his back and side.

Looking over at Matthew, wondering what we had started, he glanced back at me, the same perplexed look on his face. "Should we do something about this?" I asked him just as the front door opened back up.

As it slammed shut, we all froze, petrified. Daring to look up, I found Mom standing on the porch, hands on her hips, shaking her head. "Don't move," she said irritatedly, a threat hidden in the undertone of her voice.

Frightenedly gaping at each other, we got up in unspoken unison waiting for whatever Mom was going to do to us. Gilbert shuffled his feet a bit in the noisy summer silence, nervousness apparently having taken hold of all of us. Francis glared down at the chestnut muck that ran down his front and was clumped in his hair, while Arthur smirked a bit. Kiku, Ed, Lars and Carlos looked the least concerned, having mostly stayed out the whole ordeal. I watched Antonio's smile falter for a second as he swallowed hard, mud caked on his clothes and skin. Jett put on an arrogant facade as though he didn't know  _exactly_  how hard a mother can come down on people. Matt and I probably weren't as anxious as we should have been, having grown up with her temper.

After a couple moments, the front door flew back open, slamming against the side of the house. Eyebrows knitted and eight bags thrown over her left shoulder-how I'm still not sure-and a couple shirts and shorts in her right hand, she dumped everything on the porch. As her eyes narrowed and her arms akimbo, she simply stated, " _None_  of your asses are allowed back in my house until you have  _clean_  clothes on. I will be doing laundry and you  _will_  be changing out here, boys. Knock when you're done."

With that, she turned around and glided inside, door right behind her and followed by the sound of the deadbolt locking into place.  _Okay, she_ really  _wasn't kidding._  I realized in half-awe, half-shock as I gapped at the door.

A whistle came out of Jett before he observed, "She's really something else." I think it was partly in an attempt to break some of the growing awkwardness of it all; it didn't help.

So all eleven of us shuffled up on to the porch, collecting our clothes and then gawkily paraded to the mire of the back yard. On my way by, I turned the water back on, nonverbally offering to hose everyone down so we had a better chance of getting let back into the house. It started with me just washing the mud quickly off my skin, but progressed when I randomly sprayed Mattie. His confusion melted quickly with a chuckle as I spritz the hose once again, dirt flowing down his legs and running off his face. He threw his clothes towards the side of the house and held his arms out with his head up and said, "Get it over with and shoot me." With a laugh, I dosed him once again.

"My turn!" Gilbert called out, playfully half-shoving Matt out of his way. Both in response, Matt hockey checked him so he landed in a puddle, and I made sure the next spurt hit him directly in the face. Wiping at his eyes with a muddy palm, Gil gave a sarcastic fake laugh and stated, "Very funny, now help me up, Red Adair." Who he was, I had know idea what-so-ever. Sticking my tongue out at him, I grabbed his hand, yanking him back up onto his own two feet.

By the time all the sludge had washed off Gil, the others seemed to realize what I was doing. Shirtless, Antonio was trying to force his way into the jet stream, Jett joining him a few seconds later. Shooting the both of them in the face, they laughed it off as the muck started running off of them.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kiku changing just his shirt, having already mostly rubbed his face clean. Lars had already changed his shorts some time before and was walking back towards the front yard as I helped Francis get the mud out of his hair, much to his dismay. "It's fine," I told him, tugging a chunk out, a couple blond strands coming with it.

"No it's not!" he basically cried, swiping the hose out of my hand. "Let me do it!" Putting my hands up, I stated, "Whatever floats your boat, man." Picking my clothes up from next to my feet, I became increasingly aware of the fact that I  _actually_  had to strip,  _outside_. It probably wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be. The most they would see would be my back, if they did decide to look over at me.

_Besides, who even cares. Most guys don't_ like  _other guys... Besides Arthur. But he most likely_ doesn't  _like any of_ us  _that way. Francis is a definite "if" but he's like that with-what am I thinking?_  At that point I was really hoping I wasn't blushing as I pulled on a clean shirt and gave a quick glance over my shoulder. Francis was still trying to get mud out of his hair, Gilbert was pulling up his basketball shorts, Jett was assumably looking for his shoes-seeing as he was barefoot-while the others were chatting in the front yard. Deciding it was safe enough, I quickly pulled off my pants and yanked on the clean pair Mom brought down for me. Why it had taken everyone so much longer to change, I had no idea.

Stuffing the mud-soaked clothes into a ball, and marched to the front lawn to join the others, ignoring everyone else still changing. To my surprise, they were mostly not talking, just standing around congregated on the porch. Joining them silently, my tolerance for the growing almost quiet was instantaneously depleted from every part of my being.

Coughing a bit, I said almost as quietly as Matt, "Sorry for getting all of you guys into this. And I'm sorry my mom is kind of insane." There was a couple chuckles and mutterings of, "It's okay" before I heard Mom screech from in the kitchen, "I HEARD THAT ALFRED FRANKLIN JONES!"

There was a moment of shocked silence that settled over the boodle of us, taking us all a quick moment to register her words. When we did, it was like a flood gate had burst. I could tell I was definitely blushing by then.  _Oh my god, no...no, Mom, no._  Mom barely  _ever_  used my middle name, the last time was a year ago when I got an "F" on a quiz in History. The image of her reddening face, arms cross and intense, cutting stare came back to me for a few seconds as Jett and Gilbert walked up.

"What?" Gil asked, puzzled somewhere behind me. Matt was leaning against the wall, hand over his mouth. A smile was pulling at Lars' mouth and I could see Kiku and Ed choking back laughs. Arthur was biting at his lower lip, trying to hold back a grin. Antonio was basically doubled over, muttering, "Franklin" as he tried to take in breath. Carlos had a look plastered to his face as though he had just received the best news of his life.

Forcing a bogus smile onto my face, I grasped desperately for something even slightly humorous to respond with. Coming up with nothing to work with, I winged it. "Thanks, Mom, I feel  _so_  much closer to everyone now," I called back to her the sarcasm dripping in my voice.  _Jeez, Arthur is starting to rub off on me._  Mattie gave me a look, still chuckling. Francis was climbing up the steps at that point, eyebrows knitted in perplexion. He gave Gilbert a questioning look, who shrugged in reply. In almost unison they looked over at Antonio, who was still having respiratory issues.

The door suddenly swung open next to us, making me jump a bit, revealing Mom. "You better not sass me again, or you'll sleep outside."

"Yes, Mom," I muttered in reply, glancing down at the whitewashed wood. There were a couple snickers behind me and I felt the need to hit them all over the head.  _Why am I even friends with them again?_  I thought as I walked inside.

"Just throw your clothes into the basket, and wait in the livingroom. Dinner will be done in a moment," she instructed, pointing over to the side of the door where a beat up plastic laundry basket sat empty. Following orders, my simple, "Thanks, Mom" was followed up by several other "Thank yous" and "Thanks, Miss Amys".

Jett pushed past the rest of us, flopping down on the couch once again. Calmly marching over, Antonio, Gilbert and I simply grabbed his arms and legs and tossed him onto the rug. "Hey!" he exclaimed as we sat down. Kiku took a quiet seat next to me as Jett scrambled up into a sitting position. "No fair," he claimed as he moped on the floor next to Carlos. Francis took his seat in the old La Z Boy while the five sat on the wood flooring.

Mom sauntered past us, taking the now full basket of mud and clothes down to the washroom. No one uttered a word even as she walked past a second time, giving Matt and I a sidewards glance. "You boys sure are quiet today," she told us from the kitchen, just before the buzzer on the oven rang. No words passed anyone's lips as we sat, awkwardly glancing at each other. For once, I felt no need to break it.

"Dinner! Come stuff your faces!" Mom called out, the clanking of plates meeting wood reverberating in the stilled silence. Wordlessly we all got back up and started over to the dining table. Elbowing me in the ribs, Arthur randomly muttered into my ear, "What an interesting mum you have here." Smiling a bit, I simply uttered a, "Yeah" in return.

As we sat down, Mom gave us all an apologetic look and said, "If you've all gone mute because I made you change outside, then I might have to send you all home."

"Mom!" Matt and I snapped, spinning around to find a grin plastered to her face. Laughing a bit, she leaned against the counter and answered, "Loosen up, boys. I'm sorry I've embarrassed you, but it's not like anything you wouldn't see in the locker room."

With the last words of the sentence out there, Arthur flinched slightly, gaze dropping down to the plate in front of him. Having sat across the table from him, I simply tapped him on the shin without anyone noticing...I think. He glanced up at me for a quick second before I smiled at him and then stated, "Yeah Mom, but there are just somethings that none of wanted to see." Turning back to the occupants of the table I then joked, "All of you are butt ugly, no offense."

"What are you talking about, Al?" Gilbert exclaimed, which was quickly followed up by Francis proclaiming, "There is no one more beautiful than  _moi!_ " Tonio then proceeded to almost shove him out of his chair with a smirk. Matt laughed a bit, stabbing a couple macaroni noodles with his fork. Carlos and Eduard grinned at the scene for a moment before Arthur muttered, "Alright, keep lying to yourself." Several chuckles escaped from the table and I could see Mom smiling at what she had started.

Thankfully no one choked on dinner as from then on we couldn't shut up. Eventually the conversation came to us talking about how Gameboys were probably some of the best things on the planet.

"Thank you, Miss Amy," Kiku muttered as she collected our dishes. With a sweet smile and a cheery tone, she happily responded, "It's nothing, Kiku. Hope you're having fun." He just nodded with a forced smile that we all had gotten used to over the years. Why he was so stoic most of the time was probably the question of the century, even though it was 1999 and Y2K would propose even bigger questions for us later.

As we descended down the stairs, I flipped the lights on, having not noticed before hand that the sun was setting. Just as I hopped off the last step, Jett pushed past me flopping back down into the recliner, simply stating, "Mine." No one fought him for it.

Our conversation about video games lasted for another couple minutes before that eventually faded off into the void of nonexistence. So we all derped in silence for a while before Gilbert randomly spouted, "Brohas, we should tell ghost stories."

_No. Over my dead body, no!_  My thoughts shouted while my mouth responded with an, "Okay, why not?" There were nods of approval from Ed, Lars, and Kiku, whilst Matt smiled a bit with a, "Sure!" Francis just rolled his eyes at his friend, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth and Antonio gave out a short laugh. Arthur shrugged, following it up with, "We have nothing better to do anyway." Carlos gave a quick approving shrug and Jett literally almost jumped out of the La Z Boy with an excited, "Yes!"

Plastering on a quasi-enthusiastic smile to my face, I attempted to calm myself without making it obvious that I  _really freaking hated ghosts_.

Mattie ran upstairs for a second to get a flashlight while the rest of us sat in the faint lighting of the chilled basement.  _Yup, yup, yup. Ghosts! Sure love me some ghost stories._  I tried to convince myself, awaiting my impending doom. Within the moment that Matt was gone, the nine of us-excluding Jett who wouldn't leave the chair-gathered in a good enough circle so that we could all face each other. Sitting close to Kiku and leaving a spot open for Matt, I caught Arthur moving out of the group a couple times as if he were purposefully trying to exclude himself. Just before I asked him about it, Mattie came back down and I had other problems to think about.

"Alright, who's going first?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Of course the awesome me is," Gilbert announced, hopping up and grabbing the flashlight out of Matt's hands. Flopping back down onto the cement flooring, shining the light right up in his face. Matt rolled his eyes a bit, before quickly flipping the ceiling light off and sitting down next to Lars on the other side of the circle, leaving a large open space next to me.  _I feel_ so  _loved!_

"And this is the story of 'Room 733,'" Gilbert began. Smirking at us for a second, he started, "A couple summers ago my grandfather shipped me and Ludwig off to some military camp that was hosted in some college in the outskirts of Germany." I remembered the summer that happened. At the end of Grade Seven the Bad Touch Trio had basically flooded their math teacher's room with water and had glued all of her stuff down to her desk. They got caught and when Gil's grandpa was informed about it, he completely flipped. Ludwig was sent off with him to "keep him in line." Poor kid.

"Anyway, all of summer we were stuck in this crummy old building built in the twenties that was about eight stories high. We got stuck in on the seventh floor in room 731 in one of the tiniest dorms you could have imagined." There were a couple exasperated sighs of "Get on with it, Gilbert" before he continued.

"So there was this one kid who showed us up to our room was talking to us and mentioned how room seven hundred thirty-three was actually bigger but no one was allowed to use it. Naturally we asked why and he told us that five people had committed suicide in that room and they didn't want it in use."  _Pleasant! But why that room, out of every single room in the building?_

"Course we thought it was stupid at first until the first night. Our room shared a wall with what was called 'Der Selbstmord Raum' and since we could hear the people talking in room seven hundred twenty-nine it made sense that we could hear into that one too. But the first night something...odd happened.

"It was around midnight and we were sleeping when we woke up to the sound of a window slamming. At first we thought someone broke into our room and we were freaked until we heard the sound of a window opening again, just to be slammed shut a few seconds later. That repeated for a while until Lud finally convinced me to go tell whoever it was to stop." He looked around at us for a second. All of us were staring at him intently trying to figure out where he was going with the story until he finally got on with it.

"When I got out into the hallway, I eventually figured out where the noise was coming from and it just had to the Suicide Room. At first, I just assumed it was some of the older kids trying to mess with us or something, but that was before I found out that the room was padlocked from the outside and there was no way that they could have just climbed in from outside because the windows could only be pushed open from the inside out. Thoroughly creeped out, I just went back to bed and told Lud that some teens were smoking pot and we should just ignore them.

"The next day we had some downtime in between being screamed at and running until our legs fell off. I had headed back to our room and was getting some stuff when I heard someone knocking. Of course, I had left the door to the open and I realized there was no one there by just turning around but the knocking didn't stop. Eventually I figured out it was coming from the closet which was also adjacent to the creepy room next door. So like the stupid kid I was, I decided to look under the door at what was in there. To this day I swear I saw this glowing, yellow orb in there." A couple of the guys looked at each other, skeptical, while I glanced out the small basement window.

"Overtime Lud and I would wake up to whispering and banging coming from that room and scratching on the wall, and we eventually put in a room change request because we couldn't sleep with all that racket. Of course this weird kid named Craig found out and he told us we were dealing with a 'vengeful spirit' and all that shit."  _Great! Just great!_  I thought to myself, eyes widening and my breathing picking up slightly.  _Ghosts! I just love ghosts! Why did I agree to this?_

"The little shit actually offered to 'exorcise' it for us but he wouldn't do it unless we paid him and at the time the both of us were flat broke so that never happened. And of course our room transfers were denied as well so we were stuck with limited options on what to do about the thing." Starting to hear my heart pulsate in my ears, I glanced over at Kiku, intently listening to Gilbert like he was in the middle of a math lecture or something.

"All the stuff continued on and one day I was talking to this girl who so graciously informed me that apparently it all started in the early sixties with some ouija game gone wrong and the person who was there was still on campus, but of course we never got more than five minutes downtime and the bastard was actively avoiding the two of us after we tried to ask him about it the first time we got a chance."  _Gilbert where on earth are you even going with this?_  I thought, while shifting a bit. The story wasn't really "scary" yet, more creepy than really anything, but it still had the ability to make me lose my shit with all its talk of ghosts.

"After a couple weeks the guy apparently quit, leaving us with limited options on what we were supposed to do about our ghost next door. Ludwig eventually managed to convince someone to let him check out books from the library and was starting to read up on the supernatural and stuff. One day he started talking to the older than dirt librarian and she so  _helpfully_  informed him that when they locked up room seven hundred thirty-three and turned it into a supply closet, they had also switched the numbers around so that the old room seven hundred thirty-three became seven hundred thirty-one." All of our interests we piqued and we all shot him a look. Why  _did I agree to this?_

Wiping my palms on my shorts a bit, I forced myself to take a couple silent deep breaths in a failing attempt to not get completely freaked out by a stupid story. Without really realizing it, Arthur had moved over next to me. Elbowing me in the side, making me flinch, he gave me an interrogative look, which I answered with a sheepish smile.

"At that point we had convinced a couple of the older boys who didn't believe the 'rumours' to trade rooms with us, so they had been sleeping in our room for only about two days. So of course we booked it back to our room to tell them. When we got there we found that one of them had...jumped just before we got there." For once in my life, I saw Gilbert actually become serious about something. Shaking it off quickly he finished the story.

"After that they actually did move us out of that room and one onto the fourth floor. This is the first time I've ever told anyone about what had happened, but the worse part is I called back at the beginning of summer, like I have for the last three years, they had had the seventh floor closed for a while, but they're opened it back up this summer."

We all went unnaturally mute for a minute before Jett piped up with a monotone, "Very funny, Gilbert. You better be making that up."

Scoffing a bit, Gilbert almost bitterly replied, "Believe it or don't, but you can always just go look it up yourself." My heart was still trying to break out of my chest cavity and goosebumps sprung up over my arms.

A conversation about who wanted to go next broke out and the flashlight was passed around several times, but I wasn't really paying attention to any of it. Receiving a second elbow to the ribs from Art, I looked over at him again. Basically speaking into my ear, he asked, "Are you alright? You look pale."

"I'm fine," I managed to get out with finality and not stuttering. Giving me an unconvinced gaze, he just sighed and focused over at Kiku who was holding the flashlight. Following his example, I turned my attention over to him just as the others did.

"Have you ever heard of the Bath Game?" Kiku asked simply. There were some nods but he mostly received blank looks. Taking in a quick breath, he elaborated that it was a "game" where you summon a ghost by turning all the lights off in the bathroom and wash you hair in the bath while chanting, "Daruma-san fell down" over and over again. "A couple summers ago, I managed to convince one of my cousins to try it while they were visiting."

"It didn't actually work, right?" Antonio piped up across from me.

There was a horribly silent moment followed by Kiku's, "We think so."  _No. Not this again. What is up with everyone and ghosts tonight?_ I thought exasperatedly as I continued to listen to Kiku.

"The four of us were left home alone for a couple hours when three of us convinced Miku to do it. So she did the ritual and came racing out the door, looking extremely panicked. We locked the door from the outside and told our parents that we were trying to teach the twins, Haruki and Haruka, about evaporation and condensation, even though they already knew about it, but they believed us to some extent." We all stared at him for a moment.  _Why am I friends with any of them?_

"The next morning Miku woke up with a couple scratches on her arm, but we dubbed it as nothing at first. We drained the water in the bath later and we continued on with our day. Around midday, Miku randomly jumped to her feet screaming 'Tomare, tomare' while we were playing a card game. We were mildly confused until Haruka reminded us that part of the rules were to tell Daruma that when she got too close. Within the next hour she did the same thing about three more times until our aunt came downstairs asking what she was yelling 'Stop' for." As with Gilbert, there was still air of skepticism coming of most of the others, while I simply just shivered a bit.

Continuing on, Kiku stated, "In hindsight, we probably should have taken that as a warning that it was...aggressive. It was a couple hours before sunset when she started screaming. Gashes were opening on her neck and shoulder and a couple on her head." How nonchalantly he told the last sentence is probably what freaked most of us out the most.  _And I have known him for seven years... Oh jeez._

"The adults all came running in as Miku managed to get out 'Kitta' as she flailed her arms randomly. It worked apparently and she stopped screaming and collapsed on the floor. We got her to the emergency room before she bled out. She ended up with a total of about fifty stitches and they all left a couple days early because of the incident."

The rest of us were speechless, sitting just listening to our hearts beating. I could feel my pulse pound in my throat as I just kind of stared at Kiku in mute horror. Letting us stay like that for just a moment, he eventually asked, "Does anyone else want to share?"

"Since we all seem to be sharing personal experiences, I might as well go," Arthur piped up, accepting the flashlight from Kiku. Nonexistent ants crawled over my skin as I waited for him to begin.

"I should warn you that most of this will probably sound delusional as it happened when I was young. I was around the age of five or six when I made an imaginary friend, so to speak." Francis let out a chuckle, causing Arthur to pierce him with a glare.

"Anyway, at the time I was too young to think that there was anything odd about how my 'friend' was shriveled and grey, or the fact that its mouth was just a slit in its head or that its eyes were unproportionally large. My parents never thought there was anything wrong with it; two of my older brothers had also had imaginary friends so they just assumed it was normal. Well, until it started convincing me to steal things from my family, jewelry, books, toys, sometimes knives and such. I got in trouble all the time because of it and the thing always got mad at me when I wouldn't do what it wanted me to do." An icy finger trailed down my spine randomly, causing my breath to hitch for a second and a knot to form in my gut.  _Why do all my friends have ghost stories? What even is this?_

"Maybe a couple months before I turned seven, I got in a fight with the thing. It wanted me to steal Jack's football trophy and I knew what the consequences of taking it would be. Of course it didn't like that, and before that I didn't think that it could actually touch things or at least interact with them. Unfortunately I was wrong and it threw a pair of scissors into my wall which I got grounded for later." At that point I could practically hear the blood rushing through my skull as fear prickled my scalp.  _He better be making this up. Arthur wouldn't have actually made friends with something paranormal, right? I know he's into kind of weird stuff, but there's no way this is real. Right?_

"About a day later, I came home with a massive book from the library. I was resentful towards it and it was irritated with me. So eventually I tracked it down to the little towel closet in our loo and  _WHACK!_ " Several people jumped a bit, but it wasn't as embarrassing as my reaction.

Legitimately, I almost fell backwards from flinching so hard as an actual scream passed my lips. Clamping a hand over my mouth, my eyes widened as Arthur snorted a bit before doubling over laughing. Hitting him hard on the shoulder, I could actually feel the blush creeping over my cheeks. Gilbert's snicker suddenly metamorphosed into a guffaw and he actually fell over, bringing down everyone else's flood gates with him. I could hear Kiku and Eduard chuckling near me and Mattie had a hand clamped over his mouth as he at least  _tried_  not to laugh at me. Lars just smirked a bit, being as stoic as he usually was, while everyone else was just about ready to die from how much they were laughing.

Regaining his normal posture, Arthur managed to get out, "Your face!"

"Shut up, dude. I wasn't actually  _that_  scared," I countered, defensive. The second wave of roaring laughter came crashing in as I finished my sentence.

"Su-u-ure," Gilbert got out from on the floor. Eduard turned to me and chuckled, "If it lets you sleep, okay." Resisting the urge to flip them the birdie or roll my eyes at them, I just shook my head and folded my arms.  _Smooth, Jones, smooth._

"SHUT UP YOU DAMN HOOLIGANS! SOME PEOPLE ARE  _TRYING_  TO SLEEP AROUND HERE!" came the booming, brash bellow from our elderly neighbour next door. For the quickest couple of seconds, we all held our breath to listen to him before the dam burst once again and we were all consumed in a fit of side-splitting laughter-this time I was included.

Hearing his grumbling retreat, I made an attempt to sitting back up, with almost no such luck. Even in the dark, I could see how Gilbert's face started to match his eyes as he held his stomach and forced himself to stay upright; Antonio was half leaning on Francis for support. Kiku had a hand on his forehead, grin bunching up his cheeks, and Eduard appears to be on his giddy death bed. Lars was smiling-which was close enough-while Carlos looked close to passing out from lack of oxygen.

There was a  _ **thunk**_  as Jett literally fell out of his chair onto the floor. None of us really gave him enough mind to check to see if he was alright. Matt made a move to but was pinned down by a guffaw, causing me to erupt in a second fit of laughter. Besides, part of me was trying to just burn the memory into my mind. It was times like this that Grandpa had loved to tell us about just as much as how he narrowly escaped death so many times over. And also because I had never seen most of them smile as much as they did then. Especially Arthur. Sure I got a chuckle out of him every-now-and-then but it was  _nothing_  like that. Nothing compared to when he laughed like  _that_ and I felt as though the world could just stop spinning altogether.

As with every good thing, it had to come to an unfortunate end.

The buzzer rang on the dryer-when mom had switched the loads around, I didn't remember and a shout came from upstairs, "Al or Matt! Take your clothes out!"

"Okay, Mom!" We both managed to almost yell back. While he was kind of stuck on the floor, I pushed myself up and sort of staggered over to the washroom. Yanking the single string for a light source, I was temporarily blinded for a second before I knelt down beside the dryer, emptying the content into a single basket. Carrying it out to my friends, I dropped it off to the side as their chuckling started to die off.

"I brought clothing," I stated simply which didn't set off a fit of giggles for the umpteenth time. Almost quietly Eduard reached over and pulled the basket over into the centre of the group allowing for the rest to start digging through for what belonged to them. Matt and I just left our stuff in the bottom and he kicked it off to the side, seeing as we could just come back down and get them the next day.

Bags were unzipped and pulled open, while sleeping bags were flung out on the frigid cement. Every once in awhile someone would start giggling again, but we mostly just stated in a muted state, letting those who  _wanted_  to sleep, sleep. Only staring at the ceiling for about a good moment or two, whatever I was thinking about at the time was suddenly interrupted but a spontaneous gasp from Francis as he bolted upright.

"Good god, what  _now?_ " Gilbert whined at his friend, sitting up as well.

Smiling like a Chesire Cat, Francis stated as though it were obvious, "I just realized the entire night has passed and I have not found out who any of you  _like_." He ended up sounding as though he were whining.

Most of us just sat up to stare at him as though he gone  _completely_  off the deep end. Clapping his hands together, he his voice cheerfully rang, "I'll start it off with Joan d'Arc from the grade above me-now Antonio would you be a dear and continue." I had seen the girl around. She was weirdly rebellious, smoking just outside the school, skipping class, but from everyone who had class with her said she acted as though she did no such thing. I kind of wished that one day that I would actually get to talk to her.

Releasing a tense chuckle, Antonio whispered back, "Lovino Vargas" and simply just left it at that. It didn't come as a surprise. As soon as I had started high school, I noticed how Tonio hung around him and talked so passionately about him as though he wasn't some bitter, asocial asshole. At lunch Antonio would often get caught staring at him, a smile tugging at his mouth. For some reason, he never got the shit that Arthur had. Probably because he was so popular with everyone, being one of the biggest class clowns in the entire school; or people were just afraid of what the rest of the Trio would do to them if they did.

Before anyone in the room got a chance to question Antonio's answer, Gilbert snickered out, "Obviously, it's my-awesome-self!" It came as no surprise to anyone, knowing him.

Lars shrugged somewhere in the dark, translated as a simple "No" and Francis didn't push him-probably because he didn't actually care. Carlos admitted to some girl we had never heard of before from Cuba. Kiku got out a, "This is the part where I say, 'Maybe someone,' but I really mean, 'No one.'" It stirred up a couple chuckles from everyone in the room, though it quickly died out like a fire underwater.

"And you Arthur?" Francis questioned in a risque manner. I could practically see his sneer and eye roll as Arthur sarcastically, "The Queen."

Laughing just a bit, Francis inquired, "Are you  _sure?_ "

"Yes, I'm bloody ' _sure_ ,' frog!" There was a scoff from Francis. Probably just trying to break up the sudden tension, Eduard cockily responded, "The only woman I need is my computer." No one really laughed, though it did pull a smile into my cheeks.

Following up the almost awkward quiet, Matt hushedly spoke. "I don't really like anyone."

"Shame," Francis said simply, not elaborating before continuing with, "And you Jett?"

Chuckling a bit, he dreamily responded, "There's this new girl that moved just up the street from me last week, and she is  _fine_. I don't know her name but I think she's in our grade and she seems sweet." I could practically feel Francis' predatory gaze fall upon me.

Forcing myself to become quasi-confident, I just responded, "There was this one girl in my Algebra class that I sat next to, I think her name was Barbara or something. But yeah she was really nice and I guess I like her." I'm not sure why I felt the need to use my old math partner as my nonexistent crush, but for some reason I felt out of place. For most of my life I had always been infatuated with some girl and it just felt odd  _not_  to be.

Francis just chuckled a bit before stating, "Well, I love you all, and if you ever need a gay lover, you know where to find me" and rolling over so his back was facing us. Within seconds his breath evened and he was out like a light.

Gilbert chuckled brittly, drily saying, "You're so funny, Franny." No one else really said anything more except Jett's, "That'll be the day" and Arthur's utterance of, "That stupid frog."

Laying back down and rolling away from each other, we attempted once again to just stop thinking for a while and sleep. After a minute, Kiku stated, "Goodnight" with no responses in return except from a mumble from me. I was a little caught up in my own thoughts to actually properly respond.

_Maybe it's just normal to think those things about another dude? It has to be? Girls act like they're "in love" with their friends all the time...but maybe that's just girls. It can't be that weird, right? I just...I just don't know._  Glancing up at the shadows on the ceiling for a moment, my train of thought got to its final destination.

_I'll just get a girlfriend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright I got things I want to talk about with y'all and y'all're just going to have to listen so bear with me here.
> 
> Translations:
> 
> "Herr, wirf Hirn von Himmel" Lord, throw down some brains from the heavens (German)
> 
> ¿Hablas español?" You speak Spanish? (Spanish)
> 
> "Sí, ¿cómo te llamas?" Yes, what is your name? (Spanish (These are a bit basic, I'm sorry))
> 
> "Soy Antonio" I am Antonio (Spanish)
> 
> "Ésten son mis amigos, Gilbert y Francis." These are my friends, Gilbert and Francis. (Spanish)
> 
> "Éste es Lars. Es callado ves." This is Lars. He is quiet you see. (Spanish)
> 
> "Veo" I see. (Spanish)
> 
> "Der Selbstmord Raum" The Suicide Room (German)
> 
> Sorry I just wanted to get that out of the way.  
> Four things I want to quickly apologize for: 1) I'm sorry it took so long to update. I got writer's block and this chapter is way longer than any of the others I've written (almost 17,000 words) and that all just took me a stupidly long time to get this chapter up. 2) I brought up Joan of Arc. I knew I shouldn't have, but yet, I did. 3) My portraying of Australia. I personally see him as an energetic-almost ADHD-goofball, so that's just the way he comes through in my writing. If you wish to fight me on it, kick my ass with some sources that state otherwise. Thanks. 4) Alfred's and Matthew's father will never make an appearance in this story. That's right. He won't even get a name let alone be in the story. Though I will tell you that I will expand more onto why he left in the first place later.  
> If you didn't catch it, there was another "The Outsiders" reference in here at the very beginning. Along with that there was a kind of cameo of two of my old teachers with Mr. Manders and his goddamned whistle. Speaking of which, I will add in that my grade eight graduation was nothing like Matthew's; it sucked more. But I won't bore you with that.  
> Moving on to the setting of the story. Yes! I have officially placed this in Michigan. To be more exact, in a suburb of Grand Rapids (which is in the lower peninsula) in a made up town with no name. I just live close to that area and I'm fairly familiar with it, so that's just where I'm placing it. There also might be a couple stories also placed in similar areas, or even my hometown, but that's not important.  
> OKAY, NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT ALFRED. So I had three different ideas going for his middle name and even though you know which got picked I want to just list them off anyways: 1) Franklin 2) Frederick-after Frederick Douglass 3) Fucking Freedom-thank you, Kyokoon64. Those are just my three headcanons of what the F in his name might stand for and you are welcome to use them.  
> Now what you all are probably flipping about; Alfred deciding to just get a girlfriend. Trust me that will play a roll in the story, especially the next chapter where I'm going to go into that a bit more. I can't give too much away, but this is the part where y'all can start putting bets on what his sexuality is. Shout outs will go to whomever get the closest or get it right.
> 
> Links to the Ghost Stories:  
> Room 733 - /post/113311806844/room-733-by-reddit-user-thedalekemperor-a-lot-of  
> The Bath Game - post/40306527273/deeper-down-the-rabbithole-daruma-san-or-the-bath  
> My Best Friend Never Happened - /post/94127690559/my-best-friend-never-happened
> 
> Anyway thanks for reading, darlings! Have a nice night!


	11. There's a Reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Romance.

Naturally with all my brilliant plans, it took a while for me to actually get around to achieving it. This time it had more to do with trying to find a girl that would actually want to date me than me procrastinating. Well, also  _maybe_ because I just didn't find any of them interesting in that way. Sure all of them were beautiful in their own ways, but I was becoming increasingly frustrated with not wanting to date all of them. I just wanted to get a girlfriend and realize that I still liked only girls and then everything could be right in the world.

And so Sophomore year passed, girlfriendless and busy. Before I completely registered that it had started, summer flew south for the winter. The beginning of Junior year wasn't any different from either of the other two and still determined on that whole "getting a girlfriend" thing, I started talking to some Freshmen girls who wanted  _nothing_  to do with me. But  _seriously_ , come on. I was on the Varsity Football team! Who  _wouldn't_  want to hang out with me? But  _whatever_ , they didn't really matter anyway.

Throughout September, a wave of new students moved into the district and it took me about two weeks to finally meet one of them in the high school.

Weaving between people, attempting to get to my next class-Mr. Smith wasn't exactly forgiving of tardiness-and just narrowly avoiding a monster of a Senior, I pushed forward until I completely ran into someone who had bobbed out of the crowd, knocking their stuff everywhere.

"Oh jeez, I'm sorry!" I exclaimed, promptly kneeling to help collect everything. There were a few pencils rolling away, a stray paper or two, a mostly intact binder and a science textbook. Someone stepped on my hand and I had to yank it back for a second before going back after their textbook again.

"It's alright," a feminine voice consoled, picking up her stuff. Only then did I look up at the person, and  _damn_  was she slammin'. Soft blonde-almost-brown curls falling into her face, sometimes covering up the dazzling pebbles placed in her face. My breathing stopped dead in my throat, and I swear every single cell in my body stopped functioning properly just when I looked at her.

Becoming extremely aware that I was staring, my gaze fell like a ton of bricks to the tiles as I muttered again, "S-sorry" to which she giggled; gently and barely audible, it made my heart skip a couple beats.

Her stuff was collected almost as quickly as it has been dropped, unfortunately. Standing up I opened my mouth to apologize again, but she beat me to the punch. "I'm Justice, Justice Pechman, and I hope I see you around." And with that she was gone and I was going to be late. Hoping I wasn't blushing as I raced past people, I somehow managed to show up to class two seconds before the late bell rang.

Flying into my seat, I hoped Mr. Smith hadn't noticed my entrance. "Nice of you to join us, Jones," he crooned, writing on the board and not turning around. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stared at the back of his balding head, bugging out. After finishing whatever he had been writing, he turned back around with a coy grin and began class, not saying another word to me, thankfully.

Of course I couldn't pay attention in the slightest for the majority of class, my brain too caught up on the image of Justice Pechman. Even her name was as pretty as she was. I had known her for a total of five seconds and I was already completely infatuated with her. Smiling as I left, I simply said to myself,  _I found the girl._

By some sort of lucky coincidence, Justice just-so-happened to be in my next hour. The two of us had been taking Calculus together for  _how_  many weeks at that point and had never noticed each other. There was no way for us to get a seat change so we could sit next to each other, but every couple of minutes I would catch her throwing looks to me out of the corner of my eye.

The bell couldn't ring soon enough. As soon as it did, it took my time piling my things, giving her enough time to walk over to me. "I'm sorry," she began cheerfully. "I never caught your name."

Lifting my stuff off the desk, I said with a shrug, "I'm Alfred, Alfred F. Jones." Giggling a bit, she asked, "Are you mocking me?"

"No, I was just trying to be cool," I countered, eyes widening, to which she laughed. If she kept laughing I might have just fell in love with her right then and there...if that was actually possible.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Alfred," she said with a smile, sliding out the door and submerging herself in the river of people. I could feel the heat rushing to my cheeks as I finally managed to process all of what had happened the last couple of hours. As my thoughts finally caught up with reality, I was already heading to lunch.

Managing my way through the lunch line and to the table, I flopped down next to Kiku, who was in the middle of conversation was Ludwig. They had started talking apparently Freshman year, and when Sophomore year brought the Vargas brother that wasn't in our grade, they became a somewhat odd trio. Feliciano could  _not_  keep still or quiet for the life of him, which was a contradiction to Ludwig's serious, almost stoic mannerism. I guess that's why so many people "shipped" them, even though they-mainly Ludwig-clarified many times that they weren't dating though they-mostly Feliciano-acted like it. Most people didn't bother them about it, either because everyone was afraid of Mr. I'm-Built-Like-A-Tank Ludwig or because it was physically impossible to talk to Feliciano without Lovino looming somewhere close-by.  _Man_ , he could give you an earful.

Looking over at me for a quick second, Kiku quickly greeted with with a, "Hello, Alfred," before turning back his attention to Ludwig. It was becoming pretty a schedule that the two of them would talk, slowly people would start to join the table and then they'd be forced to stop. I took no offence to it, in fact I was kind of happy Kiku had someone to talk to him about...whatever they chatted about.

Slamming his tray down on the table, per usual, Matthias exclaimed, "You wouldn't believe what just happened in Chemistry!" He had rejoined our lunch table somewhere in the middle of the previous year. None of us were really sure why at first, he'd go mute whenever we tried to ask about it.

"Dude, what happened?" I asked, mouthful of what I was  _hoping_  was actually meat. Eyes almost popping out of his head, he disgustedly began, "You know Ms. Wilma, right?" I nodded, shoving more mystery meat into my mouth.  _Why am I eating this? This is horrible._

"Well, today she assigned us into partner projects and she paired me with Lukas!  _Lukas!_  How am I supposed to even talk to him, let alone get an entire project done?" he exclaimed, outraged. The most we really knew about Lukas was that he and Matthias, at some point sophomore year, had had a falling out of some sort. To the point where they refused to acknowledge that the other even existed or would get all weird at the mention of the other's name, it had been  _bad_.

Inserting himself into the conversation, Kiku suggested, "Just work with him like you are still strangers."

Sighing a bit, Matthias dejectedly stated, "I'm going to fail this project." Matt sat down near me a few seconds later. Throwing a questioning glance to the moping Matthias, he looked back at me as though I had all the answers, even though glasses were  _supposed_  to make you smarter. Two entire summers had passed since he first got them and he still wasn't a walking encyclopedia, so whatever magic in them must have not been working.

Shrugging it off a bit, I scooched over as Arthur appeared behind us, letting him into a spot next to me. Giving a quick nod in Matthias' general direction, Arthur asked, "So I take it he's upset about the partner assignment in Chemistry?"

"Just who I'm partnered with, Sherlock!" Matthias snapped back, before staring back down at today's  _delightful_  lunch as Eduard sat down next to him. Arthur scoffed a bit, turning his attention down to what was on the lunch platter and scowling at it as well.

Eduard's two friends silently placed themselves down on the bench next to him. They too had joined us last year somewhere at the beginning. Raivis was a Sophomore and apparently Toris was in our grade and had moved here about three years ago. I didn't really feel all  _that_  bad for not noticing him before, he was almost as quiet as Matthew at times and didn't really stick out that much in all fairness.

Speaking of Matthew, his friends were weirdly accepted the moment they sat down with us last year. It just so happened that Lars was Bella Jansen's brother, which I don't think most people put together until they were actually  _seen_  together and apparently Carlos was very well known on the soccer field. Besides that, Matt himself seemed to be getting better. He spoke more often and greater volumes too. Kumajirou had been sitting on his bed for the longest time at that point.

"Seriously, it's a new millennium. The least they could do is serve a little better food," Arthur complained, pushing around today's "meal" around with a plastic spork.

"The school doesn't want to spend anymore money than it has to on feeding us than it has to," Carlos commented, wrinkling his nose down at his tray. We all knew it was true though some tried to defend the school by saying, "But they're broke" and crap like that. Apples that weren't rotting from the inside out couldn't cost  _that_  much.

We were starting to pile our money together so someone could run out and quickly get fast food for all of us when a handful of fingers suddenly weaved into my hair.

"Hey, Alfred!" Her voice made my heart skip a couple beats. A grin spread across my face before I even realized it as I turned around and replied, "Oh hey, Justice!" The table went silent suddenly-except for Feliciano who was still babbling away to Ludwig, oblivious. Everyone was just staring at her like she was the first girl they had ever seen besides their mom, interested and a bit confused at the same time.

"Can I sit down?" she asked without even waiting for a reply. Squeezing herself right in between Arthur and I, she beamed at me and crooned, "So, who are your friends?"

Sitting up a bit, I pointed to each as I introduced them. Jett eagerly attempted to start a conversation with her though she shut him down. Arthur shook her hand giving her a polite smile but it dropped the second she looked away.  _Maybe he's just having a bad day,_  I thought, ignoring the action.

"And that's Matthew, my brother, and his two friends Carlos and Lars."

"Brother?" she questioned, looking back and forth between the two of us. "I never would have guessed!"

Arthur audibly groaned, dropping the facade completely. A light flared up in Justice's eyes-those pretty grey eyes-as she turned around and asked oddly cheerful, "Excuse me,  _what?_ "

A glare was returned from Arthur as he calmly replied, "I apologize. I just find it extremely difficult to tell the two of them apart sometimes so I'm just unsure of how you couldn't tell they were brothers."

A shaky sigh escaped from her lips and she replied, hushed, "I'm sorry. I'm just really bad with faces." Careful glances slowly left her, eyebrows cocked and heads shaking. Others turned towards Arthur, staring at him like he had kicked a puppy. It lasted for a few seconds, before the silence was broken.

"I'm sorry, I've disrupted the peace. I'll just go," she said getting up from the table. "I'll see you around, Al!" As those cherry red lips were suddenly pressed to my forehead, I could feel my face flush and she strutted away.

It was the twenty-second of October in 2000 and that was the day I met my second girlfriend.

With her the days sped by like that one fly you could never catch; irritatingly quick. The table eventually got used to her sitting with us after a week. Most tried to be polite and talk to her but most acted like she wasn't really there. I guess they were just trying to let the two of us talk or something, though Jett didn't seem to take a hint...

At the end of the first week we got together and I spent the entire weekend on the phone, much to Mom's distress. According to her, her "little baby was growing up too fast." She had been saying the same thing for the last five years.

Anyway, the Monday after, Arthur came into school with green bangs,  _green bangs!_  Now don't get me wrong or anything, they were cool and all, but I wondered how he managed to get it past his parents. Having asked him on our walk home, I only got a shrug in reply. He'd been acting weird for the last week, throwing glares at Justice, not talking to me, just being moody in general.

Around mid-December, Arthur fell out of whatever he was stuck in. Instead of not talking to me, he just refused to acknowledge her in any way. As much as I didn't like that, I was glad when we could finally have a conversation again.

His annoyance of her gradually progressed as the months ticked on. By late-January he was scowling at the mention of her name, and would just completely walk away when she showed up. I gave up on trying to ask him about it, he utterly refused to talk about her in any way. Arthur's behaviour was the one thing I couldn't wrap my head around. He didn't " _like_ " me and I most certainly didn't feel that way about  _him_.

Or at least, I was  _fairly_  certain about the former.

Besides, who  _couldn't_  love Justice? She was one of the least girliest girls in the school, always wearing Comic Book based t-shirts and jeans. Sometimes she would wear makeup but she would take it off halfway through the day because it annoyed her so much. She was beautiful, and clever; always smiling and joking around. Most of the other boys hit on her a lot, but it eventually slowed once word got around about the two of us.

She was my girlfriend who could almost beat me in basketball. My pretty, comical, kind girlfriend that didn't care what others thought about her. And after a while, I swore I was actually in love with her though I could never say it out loud.

My time with her flew by way too fast for my liking. She would be graduating in the spring so we didn't have much time left together. We actually started a daily countdown, trying to make the best of what days we had left.

It was around the thirty day marker-somewhere in April-that advertising for prom starting going up, and of course she was all hyped up to go. So instead of going places to just hang out, we would wind up in stores, searching for dresses that she would actually wear and ties that would match. I spent so much money on gas in that span of two weeks I nearly went broke! Not to mention actually having to  _buy_  her the freaking dress and stuff.

But I just assumed it was going to be worth it in the end.

Finally, the first week of May bared its face into our lives sending the prom committee into a rushed panic to accomplish whatever they hadn't in the last, like, month.

"Art, you should really come," I stated, leaning against the locker next to his.

Huffing a bit, he gently pulled a binder out and replied, "It's only Junior Prom. I'll go next year."

"C'mon, Art," I whined, practically begging at that point. "It's not like you don't have a suit or anything. It'll be fun. Besides, we all know that Justice is going to run off with her friends or something," I told him, gently pushing my elbow into his ribs, "and I could use the company." The displeasure in his eyes flared at the mention of her name. God, I was beginning to  _hate_  that look.

Setting his jaw, we started off towards our history classes, not letting the subject drop. "You know I don't enjoy formals," he said bitterly as if I would give in so easily.

"Arthur," I complained, looking at him like a kicked puppy-or at least trying to. "She won't even  _be there_  for the entire time. The Seniors are all leaving early so the can get a head start on planning their prank. C'mon, man. I need at least someone to drive me home incase there's alcohol." The final statement earned me a whack to the shoulder.

"Fine, I'll go," he finalized with an eye roll. "Just stop making a fool of yourself or I won't be able to be seen with you."

Ignoring his joking, I threw an arm around his shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze before he got the chance to shrug me off. "Thanks, Art," I got out before he predictably did the aforementioned. "Whatever, you git," he muttered, turning towards his last hour class. "I'll see you after class," I told to his back, receiving a simple over-the-shoulder wave in reply.

Laughing to myself for a second, I turned to greet Ms. Atla for class.

"You're late, git," Arthur stated choleric, waiting for me outside the door. Putting my hands up in surrender, I claimed, "Hey, it ain't my fault Ms. Atla can't just get to the point." The statement was replied to with a scoff and a quick, "Whatever, Alfred." Smiling a bit, I quickly searched for something to say but I didn't have to.

"Hey, Al!" her voice rang out as she placed her hand on my shoulder. Arthur visibly tensed, glaring at the floor and muttering, "Meet me at my locker if you're still coming." Then he just walked off down the hall.  _Seriously, what_ is  _his problem with her?_

"Hey, Just," I said to her, as she planted a quick peck on my cheek.

"So Fiona and I made plans to get ready together, so you'll have a to pick me up around 6:45. I know that's a late time to get going, but it's just going to take us a while," she said in basically a single breath.

"Yeah, okay. Cool, have fun. I'll be there around 6:45," I confirmed, grinning at her.

"Thanks, Al! You're the best!" she claimed, planting another kiss on my cheek and dashing off to her locker.  _God, I love her,_ I thought, watching her go, a smile creeping along my cheeks.

Quickly bouncing over to my locker, I ditched my History supplies and yanked my bag out of my ridiculously small locker. Slinging it over one shoulder, I waded through the constant stream of people to Arthur's locker to find him resting back on it, waiting for me to show.

"Ready?" I asked, giving him a smile. Rolling his eyes, he gave the sarcastic answer of, "No, I've been waiting here for two minutes just because I need you here to actually put my stuff away." Scoffing a bit, he started down the hall, leaving me trailing behind him.

Chortling a bit, I calmly stated, "Sorry, man, I should have figured" which he simply shrugged with an, "It's fine." We got about halfway down before either of us spoke again.

"So do you just want to drive yourself tonight or are you willing to carpool with us?"

Arthur bit his lip, glaring at the tile, and scrunching up his nose a bit. "Depends," he started, taking in a quick breath. "If I'm allowed to play Blink-182 in your car and I can ride in the front seat, then yes."

That actually got a laugh out of me. "Okay, alright, alright. I'm picking Justice up first by the way. I have to pick her corsage up still so I'm going to do that on the way. That okay?"

Sighing a bit, Arthur derisively replied, "I can survive."

"Okay, cool. I'll probably pick you up around seven or something."

"Look at you being so organized for once," Art responded mockingly, sneering up at me.

"Shut up, dude," I muttered, shoving him a bit as we walked out the doors. A chuckle escaped him for about a millisecond as if the situation was humorous in any possible way.

After a could minutes, Arthur nudged me and asked, "Did you hear about Ms. Arithmet and Mr. Peeps?"

"No. What about them?" I hadn't given Ms. Arithmet a second thought since I graduated from her Algebra I class back in Freshman year, though Mr. Peeps I did see around.

Smiling, Arthur crooned, "They're  _engaged_  now and rumour has it she's  _pregnant_." Snorting I asked him if he was serious, and he confirmed that they were indeed engaged-he had seen her ring-but the pregnant part was  _most likely_ just made-up.

"Good for them," I laughed, remembering how practically everyone had shipped them a couple years back. It was nice to know their constant flirting actually lead to something. "They'd make interesting characters in a romance novel," Arthur commented, smiling and visibly drifting off into thought.

I let him stay in his fantasy for a while before asking, "Hey, Art?" Shaking his head while yanking himself out of wherever, he responded, "Yes?"

"Do you think we'd be interesting characters in a story?" That made him go silent for a moment. Kicking a rock down the sidewalk, he shrugged while stating, "We probably would. Who knows, maybe we already are."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe right now we're just fictional characters in some story or comic book or something and are highly adored by a bunch of people."

I chuckled a bit for some unexplained reason and said, "Or we are in some alternate universe, where thousands of people write about us like creeps and thousands more stay up late reading about us."

Arthur smiled. "Imagine if they cried over us because we were dead or something else like that."

I chortled again, following up with, "Yeah, what losers."

A silence settled over us like a blanket right out of the dryer. Arthur kicked a few more pebbles down the walk before questioning, "So if we are in some storybook...do you think the audience has just been waiting for us to get together with someone this whole time?"

Blowing a short burst of air through my lips, I grinned at him and asked, "Do they have no lives or something?"

"Maybe," Arthur commented, seeming lost in thought for a second. "Or maybe we're just an excuse for them not to carry on with their everyday lives. That's what stories are really supposed to do; take you out of reality for a little while and suck you into another one."

At first, I wasn't sure how to respond to his statement. Finding one of the pebbles he had kicked earlier, I tapped it with the toe or my sneaker, sending it rolling a couple inches. Watching it tumble off the sidewalk onto the paved road, I took a deep breath.

"I think I'm okay with being a distraction." Arthur didn't comment add anymore onto my comment as we stopped at the crosswalk.

"Lots of cars today," I observed, watching three cars fly past us as we waited for traffic to slow down enough that we could get across the street.

"Well of course there are,  _everyone_ 's getting ready for prom."

Chuckling a bit at his sarcasm, I casually stated, "You'll be glad tonight that I convinced you to come."

"Please," Arthur said, folding his arms as his eyes rolled skyward. "I'm only going so  _you_  won't do anything stupid and get yourself into trouble."

Smirking, I uttered, "Nice to know you care."

"Git," he countered as the cars stopped long enough for the two of us to quick skirt across the crosswalk.

From there, I have no recollection of where the conversation went. It probably wasn't important anyway.

"One more picture."

"Mom!" I whined through clenched teeth, as Matthew laughed at me from the couch.

"Just one more, please?" Mom begged, still holding her camera in a ready position. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes bent upward as I finally agreed.

Smiling, I tried to keep my eyes open as the flash went off. Mom giggled a little, setting down the camera and opening her arms to me. Stepping forward, I hugged her impatiently just wanting to leave already.

"My little boy's all grown up!" she cried sounding close to tears.

"Mom I'm a Junior in hi-"

"I know don't make it worse," she cut off bitterly, squeezing me for a moment before finally letting me go.

"Be safe. Drive carefully, no drugs, no smoking, no sex and no alcohol...at least not without me."

Chortling a bit, I promised her I would abide by Mother Law-which she didn't find as funny as I thought it was.

"Bye, guys," I called as I opened the door. "Bye, honey! I love you!" Mom said for the millionth time that night.

"Have fun, Al," Matt stated in his usual hushed tone, as I stepped outside, shutting the door behind me.

Bouncing down the steps, I strided over to my beat up, rusting, red '83 Ford Ranger. I didn't ask much from it, just that it worked. And maybe that it could run on fumes long enough for me to  _not_  get stuck on the side of the road-which had only happened  _once_ , mind you.

Anyway, I hopped into it, drove down to the florist, and got Justice's corsage. Living in a small town, nothing was more than twenty minutes away from you at any time, so I was to and out of the florist's in less than fifteen minutes. There was more than half an hour until Justice wanted me to pick her up and I had nothing to do. I would have left later if Mom hadn't been fussing over me as she had been, but there I was sitting in the parking lot of Dee's Flora contemplating just driving around for the fun of it.

Groaning and sitting back farther into my seat, reality struck me that I didn't have the  _engine_  to just drive just because, nor did I have the money with gas costing almost two dollars in places.  _I mean Justice and Fiona are just getting ready. At worse I'll have to sit and talk with her parents,_  I contemplated, shifting the gear into reverse and attempting to look over my shoulder at what was behind me.

Driving the five minute distance to her house, I jumped out onto her driveway after parking and turning the car off. Fumbling with my keys in one hand and her corsage in another, I carefully locked my truck, taking a deep breath and hoping I wouldn't mess anything up. When I pulled in, I realized that her parents weren't home like they usually were, but I figured that Fiona was still there and they'd be okay with it if we weren't all alone.

Having gotten pretty used to just walking right in to her house like with Arthur and Kiku, I did just that, walked in without knocking or anything.  _Boy_ , did I wish I would have.

About a month before, her dad had replaced the hinges on the front door, the old one was rusting too bad, and he had oiled the new ones so well that they didn't make a sound when I pushed the door open. As I stepped in, I realized just how quiet the house was, then I saw Justice standing in the entrance way with her back to the door.

And then I saw  _him_ ; the purple of his football jersey, his hand up her shirt, his lips on hers and her hands in his hair.

My stomach wadded itself up in a tight knot, devouring itself from the inside out as it plunged into the depth of my gut. The constant buzzing of thoughts in my skull suddenly went mute as my brain was too numb with what was right in front of me. Breath caught up in my throat, too dense to swallow. The pulses that came from my heart's constant contracting and expanding were audible in my ears, as I tried to stay upright through my sudden vertigo.

What was wrong with me? I felt like screaming or throwing up or just sobbing, maybe even all three.

In the three seconds that I stood there, watching them, never once did they acknowledge me, nor did they break away from each other. "What the hell?" The words left my lips before I could think them. She whipped around to look at me, a sudden fear in her eyes.

"A-Alfred," she stuttered, it sounded like she was choking on my name. Jerking her head back and forth between him and me, her gaze eventually rested on him. "Dylan, I-I can explain. He's just a friend from school who didn't have a date and-"

"A friend?" I practically yelled back at her in disbelief, knots being twisted together in my stomach and the stinging in my eyes growing. "Has this been going on for the last six months?"

Suddenly her lips folded into a straight line, the corners of her eyes crinkling like plastic. The look she gave me could have only been described as pity. "Alfred," she began slowly, the corner of her mouth turning up into the smile I once adored. "Did you actually think this was going to be a serious thing?" The guy behind her, Dylan, had his eyebrows knitted together in confusion, gaze darting between me and the top of her head.

"You could have fooled me," I said, voice quavering in the strain of trying to keep it steady.

" _Are we still going to be a thing once you leave for college?" I asked her as she skimmed through the dresses._

_Taking one gently off the rack and holding it out in front of her, she gave me a small smile. "Of course. I'll call you everyday and we can email each other. It'll work out!" She held the dress up to her chest and asked me what I thought if it._

"And it appears I did," she said in a soft deceiving tone as if she still cared about me. Clenching the corsage in my hand, I set my jaw and somehow managed to spit out, "Fuck you."

Walking out the still open door, I dropped the flower onto her front step, not caring how damaged it was or where it ended up. She could do with it what she wanted. None of that mattered to me anymore as I walked up to the truck.

Unlocking the door and slamming it behind me, I pulled out of the driveway. She watched me leave, holding the flowers I bought her and never once attempting to stop me.

I was about half way back to Symphony Lane, when I no longer was able to hold any of it in. With my brain finally catching up with reality, I was crushed under the weight of a brick house. Hiccuping a bit, I muttered to myself, "She cheated on me."

The words spilled out of mouth again...then again, and again, and again, and again, until I was laughing them as my vision blurred rapidly. Somehow I managed to pull over to the side of the road and turn the engine off as I scrunched my eyes together, making desperate attempts to just keep my emotions inside me. The tightening in my chest refused to loosen, constricting my breathing into laboured, short breaths.

Clenching my jaw with my fists following, I leaned my head up against the steering wheel, beating it, my hands slamming again and again into the fake leather. Profanities slipped out, noiselessly, as I felt whatever it was morph into a raging, burning pit of loathing. Slipping out onto the road carefully, I swung the door close with enough force to probably dent something. Stomping over to the passenger side, my foot met the rubber of the tire.

"Why wasn't I good enough for you?" I screamed a word at a time. My clenched hands met the metal hood creating an echoing bang. I didn't feel it.

I didn't feel my foot hit the bumper, the tire or the guardrail. Burning as though they were doused with salt, the watering in my eyes went unnoticed. All that I cared about at that moment were two sentences that ate away at me.

_She cheated on me. I wasn't good enough._

"Why wasn't I good enough,  _dammit_!" I practically bellowed, feeling my face heating as my cheeks began to dampen. Giving out at random, I sunk down to the pavement as my knees ached. Turning so my back rested against the truck and my legs were folded near my chest, I rubbed my eyes with my palms.

"What the hell did I do wrong?" I muttered, wondering on the answer.

" _I love you, Al," she said into my ear, hands pawing at my face. Rubbing a thumb over her cheekbone, I muttered it back as she pressed her lips to mine for the second time that evening._

"Why'd you say it if you didn't mean it, dammit!" I yelled at her even though I was well aware she would never hear my words. "I wasn't just a toy you could play with! Are those words some sort of catchphrase for you? Did I mean  _nothing_?" The wind tussled my hair adding to the deafening sound of my own heartbeat. It all slipped down my face, bundled up in the tears I could fight.

After a while, I hauled myself up, brushing the stones out of my palms and the dust off my pants. She may have seen me as some emotionless puppet, just some sideshow there for her entertainment, but she wasn't going to be my puppet master. Nobody was. I didn't need her to dictate my life. If she didn't want me, then I wouldn't need her.

God, it  _hurt_  to force myself to believe those thoughts and the reality that came with it. The thoughts opened an aching pit in my gut, swarming with the realities of the past few minutes. Every part of it just felt so  _wrong_  and broken.

But god, it just felt  _so_  good.

Storming into the house and up the stairwell, I didn't bother knocking before just stomping into his room.

Arthur flinched, whipping his head towards me. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he questioned at first, eyebrows knitted together in irritation and lips pursed. After a second, his face softened and he took a small step towards me. "Alfred, are you alright?"

I don't know what gave it away, maybe there was still a red tint to my features, or something else. Huffing slightly, I folded my arms and bluntly stated, "Well, my girlfriend went and cheated on me."

Arthur face went completely slack for the quickest second, then his eyebrows furrowed and there was a sparkle of disbelief. "She... Al, I'm... Are... What?" he sputtered, sinking into some sort of mental turbulence.

"Justice cheated on me...with a football player from Caledonia," I restated slowly, my throat constricting once more and a bitter flame boiling up somewhere in my chest. His expression sunk again, staring at me with some unreadable emotion. Sighing as I propped myself up against his postered wall, I crossed my arms over my chest and glared out the window across the street.

At first I didn't notice when his hand rested on me shoulder, maybe I just didn't care at the time. But I did notice when he shook me a bit, gently, pulling me away from the swaying trees. "Alfred," he started slowly, looking me in the eye as if it made a difference. "She is a bloody dolt to do that to anyone,  _especially_  you. If she didn't care enough about you to go out and...do whatever she did with him, then she's not a person who is worth anymore of your time. And I get it if you're upset about it or anything else like that, but you're worth so much more than what she was giving."

Staring at him for a moment, I opened my mouth for a moment to snap that I wasn't upset, that I didn't care about it, that he should just shut up so we could leave. Instead I swallowed it, actually not caring about it at all. Justice didn't actually care about me, so I refused to care about her. Maybe I really didn't at that point or I still did to some extent, but it was prom night and I was hellbent on not letting her ruin it.

Stepping forward, I wrapped my arms around him and just hugged him for a second. After a tense second, he reluctantly reciprocated the action, not saying a word about it.

"Thanks, Art," I muttered in his ear, pulling away and snapping myself out of the funk.

Straightening up a bit, Arthur cautiously asked, "So are we still going?"

"Of course we are! I want to show Justice that I'm having a better time without her." Clapping my hands together promptly, continued, "Now we have to leave, like, right now, dude. My engine went out again."

"You're kidding," he groaned, looping a tie around his neck, nimbly tucking and folding it into the regular tie form.

"Nope! It gave out about two houses down in the Zwinglis' front yard."

"There'll be hell to pay for that, you know," he commented, pulling his second shoe on and walking past me out the door.

I was well aware that, of course there was, there always was some sort of drama with Vash, especially with his yard and other people. Even before we got out the front door, he could already be seen, loitering next to my truck.

"What are you doing parking in my front yard, Jones?" he asked without a simple "Hello" or anything else normal or friendly.

"Look, sir, the engine gave out and we're in a hurry, so I just left it for a while-" Raising his hand silently, he cut me off. Trying my best not to set off his temper, I glanced over at Arthur who was looking at me, bugged eyed as well.

With his seemingly permanent neutral expression, Vash casually asked, "Do you want me to try to fix it for you?" The question didn't compute for a full moment, leaving me standing there like an idiot, blinking in a numb daze.

"I-if you don't mind, that would be great," I managed, my voice stuck somewhere in the back of my throat. Grunting a bit, he stalked off into his house, coming back a couple minutes later with a green metal toolbox.

Astoundingly, fixing the car took him under my usual five minutes, even giving me a full diagnosis of what was wrong with it, most of which I didn't understand. "Thanks," I said, not sure exactly how to respond appropriately. Nobody saw much of Vash, unless of course there was something going on between them and his property. His sister, Lili, or something like that, was often out in the back of the house doing whatever she did back there.

Again, he grunted before sauntering off inside. "What a sunshiney character," Arthur commented sarcastically, cracking a smile at me. Chortling a bit, I countered, "As sour as he might be, at least he's a good mechanic."

"We can give him that," he stated with a shrug, climbing into the passenger seat as I managed to get the driver door open-it had a tendency to stick. Climbing in and turning the key, the engine surprisingly turned on with the first go.

"Damn," I muttered in astonishment as I made a U-turn through the middle of the street. "Dude's a miracle worker too apparently."

Driving for three minutes over to the high school, I somehow managed to find a parking spot that  _wasn't_  on the side of the road but in an  _actual_  parking space. 'Twas another miracle, I swear.

Anyway, we loitered at the back of the gym for maybe a maximum of five minutes, barely speaking until the screaming between two people on the other wall caught our attention.

"Don't talk to me, Dylan!" a girl cried, her voice all too familiar.

"Babe, please cal-"

"Don't call me 'babe,' and don't you dare tell me calm down!" she shrieked, stomping into view. Her crimson dress swished around the straps of her pumps, black streaming down her face like liquified regret and bitterness. With no reaction what-so-ever, I just stood by and watched as Justice ran out of prom, her new date trailing after her.

"Good riddance," I stated, sipping my punch again.

Arthur threw me a puzzled glance for a moment before shrugging it off and observing, "Nice to know you're over it so quickly."

Shrugging, I responded with a, "She really is just getting what was coming to her."

"Oh," Arthur cooed, holding out the vowel and then joked, "You truly are heartless."

I chuckled a bit before pointing to another couple, talking animatedly across the dance floor oblivious to the people around them. "What do you think they're talking about?" Arthur followed my finger over to the two of them before smirking a little and went, "She's talking about how heroic it was that he fended off a bear with his two bare hands."

Spitting my punch back into my cup as a chuckle escaped my throat, I rambled, "'Oh,  _sweetie_ , I just can't believe that you threw a rock at it!'" Smiling, Arthur continued when the boy started talking with a, "'You wouldn't  _believe_  how  _angry_  the bear got after that. It started growling and roaring-'"

"' _Roaring_?'" I questioned, tempted to laugh.

"Yes, ' _roaring_.' What other noise do bears make?"

I huffed a bit, stating that I wasn't sure but I was fairly certain they didn't roar. "Fine, Mr. Animal-Sounds-Expert, what are they talking about over there?" He motioned to some other couple, pressed up against each other slow dancing to "I'm a Believer."

Smirking a bit and using an unnatural high tone for my voice, I began, "'Oh, baby. I must tell you this one thing.'" Surprisingly, her date looked down at her at that exact moment before the words, "'I farted,'" slipped out my mouth. Apparently something similar-or not-come out of hers as well, as her date let go of her, laughing and shaking his head.

"Alfred, that's not funny," Arthur scolded half-heartedly, laughing and hitting my shoulder.

The rest of prom was spent like that. Us leaning against the folded up bleachers, drinking punch and making up stupid conversations based on the movements of our classmates' mouths; couples dancing together, sometimes sneaking off to do who knows what. Every once in awhile we could crack up at either how childish the things we were saying were...or for other reasons, but you don't need to know about that.

Our blissful, little universe continued on until the intercom so rudely interrupted us. "Students, we would like to inform you that now as prom is coming to an end, we will be doing our two slow dances. Our poll results are in and we will be playing the two most recommended." There was a pause as the speaker coughed before continuing in a hoarse voice, "Now grab your date for our first slow dance before announcing the King and Queen."

People shuffled around, adjusting their hands and feet, desperately trying to not be as awkward as they were in middle school with little luck. Smiling, I leaned off of the plastic and stated, "Come on, Art. Let's go dance."

Nearly choking on the punch, Arthur managed to splutter out a, "W-what?"

"Come on," I said, grabbing his arm, attempting to drag him along. "Let's go dance together."

"A-Alfred!" he snapped as an orchestra's intro started streaming in through the speakers. "We can't dance here. There's others around and what would the-"

"I didn't mean on the  _dance floor_ ," I stated as though it were obvious, rolling my eyes. For that moment, he just stood there, staring at me as though I had gone utterly mad. "Come on," I said, tugging him along by the arm, him willingly following, ditching his cup in a trash can as we passed it.

Just behind the speakers and the DJ and everything else was the entrance into the Boy's Locker room. Ducking out of sight as Steven Tyler began singing, I swung Arthur around, one hand on his waist and another in his.

His eyes nearly popped out of his head as he stared in me in half horror, half surprise. Laughing at him, I started badly whisper-singing along.

" _I could spend my life, in this sweet surrender_." A blush crept along his cheeks, as he rolled his eyes and slowly sway along to the music. As odd as it may have been, I didn't stop "serenading" him, even when he hit me in protest.

Laughing for the nth time that night, I rebelliously continued with, " _Don't want to close my eyes, don't want to fall asleep_ ," he pulled away from me, looking annoyed though a smile pulled at his mouth. "' _Cause I'd miss you, babe._ "

" _And I don't want to miss a thing,_ " he joined in speaking the words, smiling, shaking his head as he stared out at all the couples dancing together in public. Standing off to the side still, I watched him-like a creep-a smile pulling at my face. For a moment, all I could see was his blurry outline, like a camera that randomly went out of focus; as if I were standing a mile away from him instead of just a metre. Just as quickly as he went out of focus, he came back in, bringing my grin along with him.

Millions of butterflies set off in my stomach as I watched the low lights dance across his face, casting shadows along his face and turning the green in his hair darker than a cactus. Chuckling at myself a bit, I tore my gaze away towards everyone he was studying as well, whether out of jealousy or distraction from everything else.

We stayed like that until the bridge rolled around. About to ask him if he just wanted to get out of there and go home or something, I was surprised to hear him ask, "Are you still willing to dance with me?" Arthur didn't even glance over at me as it came out of his mouth.

"Why wouldn't I?" Instead of answering he shook his head and didn't move. As Steven Tyler screamed into the mic, I pulled at Arthur's hand again, this time not taking him by surprise at all as we stood up against each other, swaying awkwardly.

 _Of course_  they had to cut the song short to announce the King and Queen. Neither of us were expecting to win, so we loitered for a bit more before the next song started.

"Dude," I said to him as we left. "They're playing N*Sync. Are you sure you want to leave right now?" Picking up on my sarcasm, he rolled his eyes on the way out the door. "Whatever. Just find your keys already."

Sometimes I still look back on that night bitterly about how it had to start. But other times, I feel almost  _glad_  Justice cheated on me as crazy as it sounds. Otherwise what kind of hero would I be if I didn't have some sort of tragic backstory? And I probably never would have gotten the chance to do half of the stuff that I did.

Or I wouldn't have realized how much Arthur actually did mean to me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT WHO FINALLY UPDATED THE DAY BEFORE SCHOOL STARTS AGAIN!  
> I am so sorry for anyone with the last name Pechman. I don't even remember where I found it, but I'm still so sorry.   
> Yes you read some hinted DenNor and yes there will be more of it though I may never write a fic for them. Also yes, I naturally had to break the fourth wall. That's just what I do. Like add in songs that remind me of the ship as well, hahaha.   
> If you don't believe me, apples rotting from the inside out was a legitimate problem at my school and happened on several occasions.   
> So now I apologize for a few things. Sorry for not updating for so long. Also for all the time jumps. I'm a lazy writer. I tried my hardests to give you warnings on the whole Justice thing, but it might not have been enough. On that note, I also based Al's emotions largely on how I would deal with them, getting really angry before even feeling the urge to cry. I'm also sorry about that.  
> Hopefully y'all enjoyed this chapter. And jealous Artie.   
> Thank you for reading and have a nice week!


	12. What's the Sense in Life

After prom, I completely lost track of where the days were going. May molded into our last week in June; June gave way to the rest of summer that was spent driving to Kiku's, hanging out at Arthur’s, and, when the Bad Touch Trio came over, Matt and I were receiving "Official Awesome Prank Training." They had graduated in the spring and didn't want their legacy to just die out just yet.

I was completely willing to cause havoc on their behalf, but Mattie probably wasn't the best choice for something such as that, leading me into contacting Matthias and Jett and getting them in on the whole thing. They came over about three times a week while the Bad Touch Trio insisted upon telling us what pranks to avoid at all costs and which ones wouldn’t get us landed in detention but we're still hilarious.

And that's where my summer went, completely down the drain of "I was Barely Productive At All!" Senior year suddenly came out of nowhere at the beginning of September, so we didn't get in as many pranks in as the Trio would have liked, though we did get about two in. Of course some _Freshmen_ decided it was a brilliant idea to try and take up the roll in our absence. That didn't fly.

At the beginning of October we finally got them to stop. After every prank they did, it took some fake spiders and a couple of fake scorpions in their bags and at their desks in every one of their hours for them to get the message and cut it out. From then on, we were like school celebrities or something. When we taped an air horn under Mr. Dahlgren's chair, that was all people could talk about for a week. Then we covered an entire classroom in printed out pictures of Jar Jar Binks and people wouldn’t stop giving us high-fives for about a month. It was no wonder why the Trio took up doing it in the first place with attention like that.

Largely because of that, I spoke to more people than ever in the halls that year. Some came up to start a conversation with me, others I approached first. Usually when I initiated the talking, it was because whoever appeared to need a pick-me-up. So naturally I started joking with them and they'd laugh and I'd compliment them on something random and before I knew it I was dashing off to class trying to beat the late bell.

It was a good year to socialize.

Our lunch table lost all of the footballer occupants, so that year it was just us; my friends and me, Matt and his friends. Just the fifteen or so of us. Of course we knew it wouldn't last long, considering half of us were Seniors and would be graduating in the spring. The school was pressuring us to "start" figuring out what we were doing with our lives and sign up for college and what not.

I probably would have been one of the few, scrabbling around trying to figure all that out had it not been for the September of 2001. Personally, it didn't actually affect me in anyway, but that didn't stop me from being angry about it, angrier than I should have been in all honesty. Not even two months later, the counselling office checked in with us to ask about what we would be doing after graduation.

Naturally, that became all we could talk about at the lunch table.

“...and he told me that Zoology is an _odd_ study for most students to actually want to go into. But that’s not changing my life choices anymore that it would his.” Jett had his hands up towards his face almost defensively.

Not missing a beat, Matthias laughed, turning towards me and querying, “Al, you haven’t told us about your plan is yet, right?”

“Yeah, Alfred,” Arthur began, barely glancing up from whatever “food” the school was serving that day. “What _are_ you going to be doing with your life?”

Pushing that day’s meat substitute to the other side of the tray with my fork, I looked up at them and nonchalantly stated with a shrug, “I’m going to sign up to join the Air Force in a couple weeks.”

The bombshell exploded lopsidedly, leaving some as casualties to be counted and others as survivors. While Eduard, Matthias and Jett went completely unscathed from it, congratulating me on knowing myself well enough to figure out that I’d be able to do it, Kiku shook his head and muttered something to himself before commenting, “It’s your life to bargain with” and not elaborating any further. Matthew didn’t respond at all, the initial impact of the explosion leaving him dead on the scene. On the other hand, Arthur gave me a disdainful sideways glance before trying to neutrally stating, “Well, good for you” though it came out like black coffee, and the bouncing of his knee shook the bench a bit. A few of the other guys just nodded in response, without giving their own input.

My spotlight burned out in a flash as Matthias started talking about some hockey tournament he had coming up. That’s when I realized something was wrong. Matt stayed perfectly silent through the entire debate on whether or not hockey was an actual sport or just a bunch of grown men figure skating with sticks. He remained mute even when Lars and Carlos tried getting him to talk, something he hadn’t done in about four years.

Getting off the bus and walking into the house later that afternoon, I came face-to-face with that demon.

“What the hell, Al?” he practically shouted at me.

“‘What the hell’ what?” I asked back, calmly laying my backpack next to the couch.

“What the hell are you thinking?”

Looking up at from him from the couch, I scrunched my nose up, responding with a baffled, “What?”

“We were about eleven, back in our ‘hiding place’ after Grandpa died. You _promised_ that you weren’t going to join the Air Force.”

“Whoa,” I objected, putting a single finger up for him to be quiet as I half leaped off the couch. “ _I_ said that _I might_ change my mind on the matter somewhere in between then and now. I never _promised_ that I _wouldn’t_ join.”

Matt’s already emotionless face, dropped to a darker low, the kind of shadow that consumed his emotions after a lost hockey game. The kind of dark that ate away at his old friends when he caught a glance of them. This time directed only towards me. Standing almost perfectly still for a full minute, his gaze traveled over my face with unnerving thoroughness before the taut rubber band snapped.

“You idiot!” His hands made impact with my chest, sending me backwards into the couch. “What do you think that’ll do to the rest of us, huh? What if they send you out there and you just never come home? Do you think Mom would be able to handle that? What do you expect me to tell other people when they come looking for you?”

Stupefied. That was the only thing I could feel for a moment, too dazed to process what he was saying or to respond to it. The hamster fell off the wheel for a while before gathering itself and forcing my brain to work.

“Matt, where’s this coming from?” I questioned, thoroughly confused.

Whatever he had felt just seconds earlier visually melted off of his features as he sighed, staring fixedly out the window. Setting his jaw a bit, he simply muttered, “I’m just not ready to lose my brother.”

Getting back up off the couch, I took a couple steps over to him, tossing my arm around his shoulder. “Dude, it’s still a couple weeks off. There’s still time for me to pitch the idea completely. Besides, I’m the hero!” I finished with a chuckle.

“You’re hopeless,” he uttered, shaking me off and stalking upstairs with his backpack.

*  *  *

Yellow stripes flew past the truck as I glared at the passing pavement. Clenching my jaw while attempting not to grind my teeth, I turned the radio on for a minute before slamming my thumb back into the power button.

Groaning a bit, I muttered to myself, "This is just _bullshit_. What are they _expecting_ me to do now?" My palm met the steering wheel with a thud.

Grumbling profanities under my breath, I turned on to Symphony Lane, slowing down and sighing. _Don't let them think you're upset about it. Just tell them what they said. It'll be alright. You can...figure something else out. It'll be alright,_ I tried to convince myself, pulling into the driveway and shutting the engine off.

Rubbing my palms over my eyes and face, I sighed a bit just trying to smoulder my anger and irritation. After a moment, I decided it wasn't worth it and just went in.

Mom was in the kitchen chatting on the phone was someone, Matt was somewhere else in the house, having not made an appearance yet. Kicking my shoes off into the corner near the door, I heard Mom whisper, "Al."

Poking my head around the doorway, I stared at her before she hushedly continued, "Matt's upstairs. He has something to say to you." Seconds later the phone came back up to her ear and mouth, and cheerfully stating, "Sorry Maddi, my oldest just got home. Anyway, yeah! He was being a total d-bag about it! I was just like..." Tuning her out, I ascended up to our still shared bedroom.

Opening the door, I began irritatedly, "Matt, Mom said--what is this?" Five pairs of eyes stared at me from inside the room. _What the hell is going on?_ I wondered, staring back at them.

“Come in, Al, and close the door,” Matt basically ordered in a stern tone. Making quick eye contact with everyone in the room, I made a quick check-list of who hadn’t shown up for...whatever it was.

Matt and Arthur didn’t shock me at all, considering the former shared the room with me and the latter lived just across the street. Kiku, on the other hand, basically lived on the other side of town and he didn’t have a car yet. But it was the Trio that really flabbergasted me.

Knowing Gilbert was studying over in Europe to become an engineer, him being there in the middle of a semester was an utter shock. Francis had been talking for a long time about enrolling in some out of country Art or Culinary school and I assumed he had when he wasn’t around that year. Antonio, though, I saw a lot of, living at home, working to get enough money to go to college or be old enough to collect what money his dad had left him. He was less than surprising.

“Can I ask again what’s going on?” I questioned, staring at the five of the warily.

Arthur sighed, stepping in for Matthew for a second, and stating, “We’re going to call this an intervention.”

Groaning a bit, I irritatedly asked, “What is it about this time?”

“This time?” questioned Antonio, not understanding my feeble attempt at throwing a joke into the mess of it all.

“ _Mon ami_ ,” Francis started sympathetically, whacking Gilbert who was holding back a laugh. “We’re just concerned that what you’re planning on doing, may not be...the best for you.”

“Really, we just all think you’re going to get yourself killed,” Arthur countered, glaring at Francis and looking as grouchy as I felt. _Could we please do this on any another day?_ I sort of begged whatever other-worldly being was paying attention, or cared. None did.

“Seriously, guys?” I groaned, folding my arms and resisting the urge to snap at all of them. “You could have done this _before_ I left, you know?”

“I tried to tell them that,” Kiku muttered defensively, still inventorying his surroundings, even though he had been there about five million times.

“We know, but we’re still worried about you, Al,” Matt stated almost nonchalantly and nonplussed. Something about his simple statement, just some minutia, that completely sent me over the edge.

“Well, you don’t have to,” I affronted, glaring at him. “They wouldn’t let me enlist anyway!”

Silence trickled in, seeping into the wide cracks of absent words. Five pairs of eyes studied me, some narrowing into questioning slits. My heart pounded in my head, thundering over my own thoughts of, _I probably just screwed up_. Temptation wanted me to just grab the door and get out of there, lock myself in the bathroom or drive until the truck broke down, which probably wouldn’t be very far.

“Why?” Kiku asked cautiously, the first to break the glass wall of quiet, calming my nerves ever so slightly.

Sighing a bit, I leaned my back into the door and bitterly stated, “Well, it turns out I’m legally blind.”

For a full moment, none of them knew how to properly react, much like I had when delivered the news. Arthur gave a dry, humorless chuckle, shaking his head and muttering something like, “You git.” Antonio gave me a mostly sympathetic look, while Matthew and Kiku started muttering apologies about overreacting. Gilbert was the only one who actually helped with the matter by basically shouting, “You’re as blind as a bat,” laughing at himself the entire time Francis tried to embrace me.

**  
  
**

A month or so later, I came to discovery that: One, getting used to the glasses was the easy part. Two, being utterly consumed with the panic of going back to the drawing board of “What Am I Gonna Do With My Life” was just about enough to drive me insane.

Nothing appealed to me throughout the winter. Spring rolled around and the pressure of college applications loomed over all of us. Out of mostly anxiety, I applied to several Community Colleges, getting accepted to a few and feeling stressed over my lack of decision making. Needless to say, I was a wreck.

Eventually, the world, or karma, or whatever, caught up with my predicament on the twelfth of April. Having followed a Sophomore into her Chemistry class while talking about Star Wars, I hung out for a couple minutes before I decided to leave so I wouldn't be late. Right next to the door, a couple of guys were measuring out some liquids in separate beakers leaving a third one open to mix them. Normally I would just ignore what other people were doing, if they weren't planning on mixing what were clearly labeled as bleach and vinegar.

"Whatcha doing?" I asked leaving over them a bit.

"None of your business," one snapped back, continuing to pour vinegar into the glass container.

"It is my business when you choke every last person in here," I coolly answered, still staring at them expectantly. Both of them turned around to stare at me as though I were insane. Taking the opportunity of having their attention, I continued, "Mixing the two of those creates a Chloritic Gas or chlorine in a gas state. Now obviously that's dangerous for people to breath it in, but poorly ventilated areas, such as a classroom, makes it worse." A hand rested on my shoulder as I finished, causing me to tense and slowly stand up straighter.

"Mr. Jones," Ms. Wilma began delicately behind me. "Please see me after school today." Releasing me, she turned to the two students in front of her, asking them to chat with her out in the hall.

Needless to say, I was not excited _at all_ about that meeting. Due to the fact that I had never had Ms. Wilma, I had never really talked to her, ever. And now she wanted to talk to me after school. Not only did it mess with some after school arrangements--Matt now had to ride the bus, but Arthur was determined to wait for me in the lobby--but it practically diminished my concentration in my actual classes. God, that lady knew how to make people upset with her.

Eventually History came to a close with the release bell, leaving me to collecting my stuff out of my locker and nervously peregrinated to room 1632. Drumming my knuckles lightly on her still open door, I announced, “Ms. Wilma, you wanted me to come see you after school.”

Grinning at me, she amiably stated , “Indeed I did. Come in and sit. This will be ephemeral.” _Speak English, lady._ Pulling up a chair next to her desk, she patted it as plodded over. Her classroom made her seem like a sabaist or something, constellation posters scattered everywhere, zodiac signs everywhere. It was almost like she didn’t realize that she taught Chemistry. Sitting down carefully in the short plastic seat, I stared at her expectantly waiting for her to at least tell me what she wanted to talk about.

“You’re first name is Alfred, correct?” she questioned in an elevated tone, brushing some wispy gray hairs out of her face.

“Yes it is,” I responded, trying not to let the confusion leak into my voice and shifting a bit in the chair.

“Well, Alfred,” she started, pushing her glass higher on the bridge of her nose and folding her hands in her lap. “I was wondering what you were planning to do after graduation.”

I could feel my heart pounding away in my chest as I sat a bit straighter. “Currently I don’t have any plans, Miss. Can I ask why?”

Smiling quickly, she exuberantly said, “You obviously remember earlier this morning with my two problem students.” She giggled at herself a bit, before going on, “I noticed that there’s just something about you... Do you enjoy the Sciences?”

Where she was going with the conversation, I wasn’t one hundred percent certain, but I responded anyway. “Yeah. Science is my favourite class.”

A grin spread across her face like the wings of a bird about to take flight. “In my opinion, I do think you would make an excellent teacher, whether it be in the Sciences or a different field.” She didn’t even give me a full second to process what she had said before she said before continuing.

“Have you had Mr. Johnston?” I nodded. Mr. Johnston was a new Math teacher the year before I was a Freshman and I ended up in his Algebra II class as a Junior.

Ms. Wilma smiled again, asking if I had enjoyed him. I had, though it seemed like a random thing for her to be wondering about.

“About ten years ago, I gave him the same exact advice I just gave you.”

Stumbling for a proper response, I stupidly stated, “You’re kind of dating yourself, Ms. Wilma.”

Her laugh was euphonious, wrinkling the corners of her eyes more than they already were and crinkling the skin of most of her face. “Alfred, it is to the surprise of no one that I am old. Seventy-six to be exact. I no longer care about dating myself. In fact, I enjoy telling people about my years of experience.”  

Patting my shoulder, she giggled a bit more and said that she might as well let me go live my life. Thanking her gratefully, I put the chair back for her and rushed down the hall to the lobby.

“What was that all about?” Arthur questioned, falling into step with me on our way out the door.

“You know how I have had literally no idea about what I’m doing after graduation?”

“Of course. Even a blind person could see that, Alfred.” I hit his shoulder for the blind comment.

“Well, Ms. Wilma wanted to talk to me about considering going into teaching.”

“Why?” Arthur questioned, giving me a look.

“Because I kept a couple of kids from choking the class with bleach and vinegar, that’s why,” I countered, kicking a rock into the road. Mimicking my action, Arthur’s rock bounced off mine, landing a couple inches away from it. The crosswalk switched images, nonverbally telling us that it was safe to step out into the road.

Sighing a bit, Art eventually piped up with a, “I could see you doing that.”

“Doing what?” I asked, confused for a couple seconds on what he was referring to.

“Teaching,” he muttered, pulling down one of the sleeves of his sweater. Though there wasn’t a huge change in it, his fashion taste had developed a bit over the years. He still wore mostly black jeans with leather boots, but now sometimes he’d wear a shirt or a sweater that wasn’t the colour of night or had a band on the front of it. His bangs remained dyed green, though he let it stay washed out for greater chunks of time than he had before.

“I’m probably going to look into it more since it’s the only thing I have going for me right now,” I stated, trying to sound indifferent on the matter. As fate would have it, I didn’t come up with anything else. Soon the thought of teaching became more and more appealing to me until I was certain that I actually had an interest in it.

By the time we graduated, I actually knew what I was doing with my life. There was an actual plan I had later out for myself for once in my rather short life. For once, the future wasn’t as blurry as it used to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL LOOK WHO IS BACK! Yeah, I apologize that I haven't updated in months. In my free time I actually had finished this story, I just never updated it again. Please don't ask me why because I can't give you a very good answer. Though, I am going to make an effort to updating more.
> 
> This chapter kind of sucks, but I really don't have very much motivation to rewrite it, or really the last three chapters after this as well. Sorry. Parts are kind of out of character, and that's really just a sign of my laziness. 
> 
> Currently I have started plotting several other things that I may publish one day, we'll just have to see. 
> 
> Besides the point, did anyone catch my pun right at the end there? 
> 
> Thanks for reading, have a nice day!


	13. Make You Swoon

"And this one is a...?" I asked whacking the metre stick on the projector screen. About a dozen hands flew into the air, thankfully, otherwise I'd be forced into giving them the answer due to the time crunch.

Carefully swinging the stick around, I jabbed it in the direction of a boy in the back of the classroom. "Michael," I projected back to him.

Flipping his bleached bangs out of his face, he answered in a hushed tone, "Is that a Cinder Cone volcano?"

"Yes it is!" I watched as the hands slowly sank back down, before smiling and asking, "How does it form?" Every single hand shot back up much to my surprise. I had been teaching Grade Eight science for two years and usually at that point students didn’t care enough to answer my questions. The class of 2013 was impressive compared to previous ones.

"Melody," I called, pointing at her. Not phased at all, she quickly explained, "They form after layers of lava and ash build up."

“Good,” I exclaimed, slamming the metre stick down into my palm. “Now, do we have to go over the rest or do you guys want to get start on the work?” The synchronized mutters of, “Work” was good enough for me as I had tests still to grade.

“Pages twelve and fifteen in the packet, and it’s not homework but I do expect you to be working,” I stated, hopping down off the front row of desks. It was actually rather surprising that I was able to get away with teaching on the top of the desks. That and wearing a lab coat to school everyday instead of “dressing professionally.” Though I was probably the “problematic” teacher, it didn’t matter too much to me. Mainly because it was fun, but also because the kids enjoyed it.

It became a habit for me to get a school lunch with the students everyday, then to complain about it in the hour after that. At first I was dubbed as the “odd new one” but as each grade became more and more comfortable with my shenanigans--such as having days where instead of learning we just sat and talked about whatever--I suddenly became the “cool teacher.”

Not that I actually eavesdropped on the students or anything... That’s besides the point.

Sitting down for about five minutes, I finished up on the last couple tests that were left and started strolling around the room looking for anyone who may need help on the assignment. Of course, being forever off-task, it didn’t take long for the cover of a book to catch my attention.

The fact that Liliana was already reading yet another Young Adult Fiction novel that week was not surprising. Reading almost constantly unless a teacher was talking or there was work to be done, she worked quickly through assignments to get back to whatever new page-turner was waiting for her. I often asked her about her books and series, when I saw the opportunity.

“What do we have today?” I asked leaning to the side a bit, trying to see the cover better, my glasses slipping down my nose slightly and blurring my vision. From what I could make out, it was grey and there were two human figures. A couple kids gave me a quick glance before focusing their concentration back onto the pages.

“It’s ‘The Shadowed Ones,’” she began rather quietly, used to me asking her about books. “It’s about this boy who has a...sad social life so he spends a lot of his time out in the woods and one day he meets another boy out there who has escaped from a government laboratory and has weird superpowers. It’s the first in the trilogy. The third one is coming out this summer. Most of the grade has read the series already.”

“Sounds good,” I commented with a smile. “I’ll have to track down a copy. What’s it called again?”

“‘The Shadowed Ones,’” she repeated, waiting a second before adding, “by Arthur Kirkland.”

Blinking a couple times as her last three words sunk in, I echoed, “Arthur Kirkland?"

“Yeah,” she mumbled sounding a bit confused. “He lived around here or something.”

“Can I see that really quick?” Now a majority of the class was giving me a sideways glance, not that I minded or cared too much. Taking the book from her gently as she handed it over, I flipped to the absolute back to the “About the Author” page. A chortle got past me as, I stared down at his neutral, photographed expression and those caterpillar eyebrows. Sitting the hardcover book back down in front of her, I met the eyes of the entire class.

“I’m sorry,” I started, leaning back against the counter a bit. “Arthur was just my best friend in high school.” There was a sudden uproar of disbelief from almost every single student. I heard several “Prove its” and “Then name off facts about hims.”

Taking it as a challenge, I hushed them, sitting back on the counter and asking, “ _Raising your hands_ , what do you guys want to know?”

Every single shot into the air at once to the point where it was almost overwhelming. “Wow, okay. Uh... Maddison.” The hands slowly descended as she spoke up with, “Name off his brothers!”

Sighing a bit, I looked up towards the ceiling. “Let’s see... I used to babysit Peter every once in awhile, and he was in fifth grade when we graduated. I didn’t know Lewis, because he left as soon as he turned eighteen and that was before I was friends with Arthur. Jack _hated_ me, I can tell you that. And Oliver never said more than two words to me at a time...or anyone for that matter.”

Eying me suspiciously, she seemed satisfied with my answer and leaned back into her plastic chair with her arms crossed. “Next,” I announced causing the hands to shoot into the air once again. “Brett.”

“What was his favourite colour?”

“Green, and that is so cliché. Seriously, Brett? Next.” Remus asked about how I met right after that, without being called on might I add.

Staring at him for a second, I questioned, “You mean the first time I actually met him ‘met him’ or how I became friends with him ‘met him.’”

“Both,” the class verified in unison. _Jeez, I’ve never seen them so hyped up about anything in my class._

Chuckling a bit, I decided to be mostly honest with them since what damage could it really do. “Well I first met him when I was eleven, honestly, I hated him at first. We didn’t get along at all.” A laugh broke out from a couple of them, probably due to the irony of it.

“Then in Freshmen year I beat up a couple guys that were beating him up and... Actually let me backtrack and tell you guys not to beat people up because then you end up suspended. I am not a great role model, learn from my mistakes. Also don’t go around saying I used to beat people up in high school. It only happened thrice.” For some reason, the entire monologue was incredibly entertaining to them, so I had to wait for their giggling to die out before continuing.

“Anyway, I actually started talking to him and high school and we both realized that the other wasn’t as...dislikable as we were when we were twelve. And last one, Grace.”

“Does this mean we get to write fan letters to him?”

Scrunching up my face a bit, I honestly replied, “Well, considering I haven’t spoken to him since before I started college, it’ll probably be a ‘no,’ unless I get in contact with him sometime before the end of the year. Plus I’m a science teacher.”

“Mark it off as one of our writing assignments,” suggested Gavin as though he were just waiting for it.

“Also he’s signing books this weekend in the Barnes & Noble in Grand Rapids,” Juanita piped up from the other side of the room.

Chuckling a bit, I told them, “You guys are the best problem solvers when it applies to anything not school related.”

“We just really like getting out of work, Mr. Jones,” Remus stated, tilting his chair back onto the back to legs. Before I could respond to him or tell him not to damage my chairs, the electronic bell chimed through the intercom.

“Remember, no homework,” I reminded, sliding off the counter preparing for the next class and bracing myself for a “Slacking and Yacking Day.”

* * *

Brushing the tips over the back of the cover, I stood in the line that stretch practically from one side of the store to the other. _How did I not know that he wrote books before now? Clearly everyone else did. Some old best friend I am._

Deciding there was nothing better for me to be doing I flipped the the first page and started reading

_Loneliness was never an emotion I had embraced gracefully. I had grown surrounded by a crowd of friends and busy sidewalks. My life was filled entirely with nameless faces and always a soul around to chat with, whether it be Murry who worked at the Café across the street or Mrs. Millboro next door._

_Replacing skyscrapers and taxis with trees and wildlife was not an easy transition for me to say the least. After thirteen years of constant noise and faces in a sleepless city, the nearly dead quiet of the forest was just about enough to drive me utterly insane._

_But I guess that’s just the kind of luck you’re_ blessed _with when you’re superstitious and  your parents name you Devlin, paired with the already_ fantastic _surname of Mallory._

The line moved forward a couple steps. Following them obediently, I didn't look up again until I had finished the page. At that point, there were only about two people left in front of me. Gently closing the book, I gazed at the back of the head of the girl in front of me. If she was in my district, I’d probably have her as a student. Her hair was tied up in pigtails and I could see the edges of her glasses peeking around the side of her face as she giddily bounced on the balls of her feet.

Eventually he handed a couple books to a woman probably in her early twenties. She thanked him before scurrying off through the store. The girl on front of me quickly slid her book in front of Arthur while quickly stuttering, “I-I’m Telula. I-I just w-want to thank you s-so much for coming out here and doing this a-and...you’re my favourite author I love your books. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, dear. It’s my pleasure to do anything for my readers.” The words slipped so easily from his smile, making Telula squeal a bit. _Damn, why has it been so long?_ I wondered staring at him with a smirk.

“There you are,” he lilted with an unwavering grin. She thanked him once again in an utterance as his gaze fell back down to the table. Setting my newly bought copy down in front of him, I comically said, “Fancy meeting you here.”His hands froze over the inside cover of the novel, eyes following the path upwards towards my face.

“Alfred?” he exclaimed in dismay.

“S’up?” I asked giving him a subtle wink. Several faces peered at us from in line, struggling to figure out what was going on.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?” he whispered to me, malcontent.

“I’m here to get a book signed,” I fired back, smirking at him a bit.

“Oh,” he muttered, a blush tinting his cheeks, “right.” Gaze dropping back down to his pen, he scrawled several sentences into the cover with a steady hand. Crossing my arms, I smirked at him a bit, just watching him write.

Punctuating his last word, he closed the cover and handed it back.

"Thanks, Eyebrows." I grinned, taking the book back from him. "I'll see you around," I stated starting to go.

"Goodbye, Alfred," he said after me, annoyance dripping through his words.

It hadn't been ideal, but it was still nice to see him again, though I kind of wanted to actually talk to him again. Assuming I wouldn't get another chance for a while, I eventually found the store's reading section and flopped into a chair, checking what was written on the inside:

_I didn't know you could read! Nice to see you actually picked up something sophisticated._

_\--Arthur Kirkland_

Suppressing a laugh the best I could, I flipped back to the second page and picked up where I had left off.

Two hours and about half a book later, I glanced up at Arthur for the first time since sitting down only to realize that his line had been depleted and he was now just scrawling absentmindedly in a notebook. As much as I just wanted to continue reading, I forced myself to mark my page and walk back over to him.

"So what have you been up to?"

Flinching a lot with a hand flying up to his chest, he gasped, "When did you get so quiet?"

"Probably some time in college when I had to sneak back into the dorm without waking my roommate," I responded coolly, leaning on his plastic fold out table.

Rolling his eyes at me, he muttered "It was rhetorical," before deciding to answer my question. "If you're really wondering what I've been up to, then I've been in college, graduating with an English Major and getting an internship with the Grand Rapids Press that eventually turned into a job as a journalist," he listed without looking me in the eye, putting away the notebook he had been writing in.

"Hey, that's cool man. I probably would have tracked you down sooner if I got the Press," I laughed, kneeling a bit so I wasn't towering over him as he sat.

"There's another chair back here if you want to sit," he offered, reaching down behind the table for probably a fold-up chair.

“Am I allowed to?”

“What difference does it make? I haven’t had any company for near an hour now, so I don’t see why not,” he responded, unfolding the chair next to him. Grinning at him a bit, I half flopped down into it, throwing an arm over the back of it.

“Charming,” Arthur muttered, staring off at the book ahead of him as though there were a camera among them. Laughing a bit, I pulled his attention back over to me away from the nonexistent recording device.

“So what _have_ you been doing with your life, Alfred?” asked Arthur, interested in my life all of the sudden.

“Well, I ended up going to college,” I started, figuring out how to word the rest of the story.

“Shocker,” Arthur stated in almost complete monotone.

Rolling my eyes at him a bit, I continued with, “And now I’m a science teacher with students who _really_ enjoy your books.”

“Really?”

“Really! I wasted about ten minutes out of three of my classes convincing them all that I actually knew you... and that we couldn’t take time out of class to write fan letters to you.”

Laughing a bit and shaking his head, Arthur got out, “I would be completely okay with that.”

“You really want me to drop off one hundred and twenty something letters to you?” I asked with a grin. He still agreed that he would be willing to read all of them, much to my mocking surprise.

“How’s your mother been?” he inquired out of practically nowhere.

“She’s getting along without Matt and me. At least, I think she’s doing okay without us, probably lonely at worse.”

Chortling a bit, Arthur commented, “You’re such a caring son.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, shoving him a bit.

“Do you at least know how Matthew is doing?”

“Well, I better, considering he’s living with me.” The statement sent a wave of surprise over Arthur’s expression before I elaborated. “He’s going to college right now earning his Master’s to become a Evolutionary Biologist.”

“So you both became scientists?”

Laughing a bit, I agreed with him, having already made the connection myself. Not wanting to kill the conversation, I followed it up with, “So, how is your family?”

Groaning a bit and folding his arms while glancing up at the high ceiling, he began, “Peter is a Senior now, been begging Mum and Father for a car for over a year. Jack is thinking about marrying his girlfriend, whom he got pregnant. After that he’s thinking about moving back to England or Ireland,” he stated with disdain. Sighing a bit, he continued a second or two later.

“Lewis did move back about five years ago, and got married last spring and I and most of our brothers almost weren’t invited until Mum threw a fit,” he muttered with the roll of his eyes. “He’s working in some factory right now though he keeps talking about starting his own business someday. Oliver on the other hand, moved out to California and is working for Google.”

“I didn’t know he was into that kind of stuff.”

“Neither did we!” Arthur practically exclaimed with his hands near his face. What few customers were still there at seven at night, shot us a few glances as though they were becoming ever more annoyed with our presence.

“Interesting family you got there. How are your parents dealing with all of this?”

With a dry chuckle, he retorted, “How do you think they are?” That got a chortle out of me for a couple seconds, before I decided to try a different question.

“Where are you living these days?”

Without thinking ahead of time, he simply responded, “I have a flat downtown. Rent is a pain in the arse though. What about you and Matt?”

“We’re in one of the newer apartments they’ve built in town. Rent isn’t so bad considering we’re both paying it. Matt’s working at The Kitchen so I’ve been paying a larger portion of it.”

“Oh, you moved back?” he questioned sounding a bit surprised by the statement.

“Yeah, it was just an easier move, plus there was a job opening in the middle school,” I answered with a shrug. “Do you remember Ms. Wilma?” Narrowing his eyes and biting his lower lip, he shook his head a bit before his lids flew open, widening the appearance of his eyes.

“Wasn’t she the grey hair that told you to become a teacher?”

“Indeed she was,” I responded with enthusiasm, before continuing with where the question was leading. “Well apparently after we graduated she got moved down to the middle school and about three years ago she decided to retire, so then two years ago I filled her job.”

“Funny how that worked out,” Arthur commented, a smiling playing on his lips. “But who else stayed in town? I haven’t been to any of the reunions.”

“As most of us noticed,” I acknowledged, remembering the Five Year from a couple years back. “I know that Antonio is in Spain currently doing who knows what. I think Francis is still travelling the world, studying art from various cultures or something prestigious like that. Gilbert came back from Germany and got an engineering job over in Detroit I believe.” Arthur’s disinterested stare, caught my attention before I started listing off our friend group.

“Kiku is an animator now, except I don’t know where he ended up. I haven’t seen Matthias in a while, though I do know he’s dating a guy named Lukas Bondevik.”

“He’s gay?” balked Arthur with owlish eyes. "And is that the Lukas?"

“Maybe,” I guessed, not really sure myself, having just found him the other day on FaceBook. Eyebrows cocked, Arthur made a surprised noise before I continued.

“But anyway, Eduard programs computers now, and actually lives in the apartment building next to us. Uh... Jett works at John Ball Zoo now, which I can say wasn’t much of a surprise.”

“No one would be baffled by that.”

“Pretty much,” I continued, “do you remember Lovino Vargas?”

“I remember Feliciano who clung to Ludwig.”

“Well Lovino was in our grade and now he and Feliciano run this Italian restaurant downtown near the old bridge.”

“That’s not much of a surprise either,” he muttered, his expression barely changing.

“Neither was hearing that Ludwig became a Mechanical Engineer.”

“Do all siblings do that when there’s only two of them? Go into the same career paths?”

Laughing a bit at the coincidence, I told him I wasn’t sure though I assumed no. Suddenly remembering another one of our former classmates.

“Do you remember Ivan?”

“The really tall Russian, who you were passive aggressive towards?”

“Yes, hi--I was not ‘passive aggressive!’”

“You were, Alfred,” he objected, studying me with scrutiny.

“I was not, but whatever,” I countered as I realized how off track I had gotten. It was like I could never have a conversation with him without forgetting what I was saying. “Anyway, now Ivan runs a flower shop on the edge of town.”

“A flower shop?” Arthur echoed, suppressing a laugh.

“He runs a flower shop now,” I reverberated with a grin. A chuckle passed his lips as he smiled down at the floor, his chardonnay bangs falling past the almost visible veins on the side of his forehead. Situated still on the fold out chair, I became fixated on the pull of the corners of his mouth, the crinkling of the skin near his eyes and those crooked but white teeth, how his eyes were like windows into some far off part of the galaxy that had yet to be explored.

His mouth started moving, producing sounds that were supposed to be words, violently jerking me out of my daze. “Sorry, I just zoned out. What did you say?”

“I said, ‘he would make an interesting character in a story,’” he repeated, his bushy brows beetling a bit. Chortling slightly I agreed, hoping that I wasn’t blushing, that would be the last thing I needed.

Neither of us managed to get another word out before an alarm went off on his phone signalling the end of his time slot. “Well, I guess that means I’m done here for today,” Arthur stated, turning it off and collecting a bag from under the table.

“I guess it does,” I agreed, standing up. “Do they need us to put the table away or anything?”

“No, just leave it,” he declined, getting up as well, bag in hand. “There’ll be another author here tomorrow signing and it’s easier for the workers to just leave it out.” I shrugged it off, believing him.

“We should keep in touch,” I blurted out, as I held the door open.

“We should,” he affirmed. “Do you have a mobile?”

Unsure of what he was trying to ask for a moment, I stupidly droned, “Uh...” Scoffing a bit, he started digging through his pockets until he found a spare scrap of paper. Pulling out a pen as well, he quickly scrawled something down on it and handed it to me.

“Call me or something when you get the chance.”

I got a chance the next day, somewhere around noon. That phone call turned into a second the day after that, then a third and a fifth until it became a daily thing. Our phone calls slowly converged into text messages riddled with “You won’t believe what happened today,” and “Help, I’m stuck” and the ever so common “ARTHUR I PROCRASTINATED TOO MUCH AND NOW HAVE TOO MANY PAPERS TO GRADE.” The final one usually resulted to him driving over and assisting me with several very large piles of papers I had procrastinated on grading for _way_ too long. Matt sometimes joined us after work or class, but usually he just walked in and passed out on his bed, not that I could blame him.

Every once in awhile we’d end up at a bar after a bad day at work or grading papers, which was usually followed up by a tired, irritated Matthew coming to pick us up. Though when I did take up the responsibility of being the Designated Driver it was actually quite entertaining sometimes. As it turned out, Arthur was an angry drunk. Okay, less angry and more just...extremely argumentative.

Our rides home were usually something to the effect of:

“Why d’ya leave’da bloody ‘U’ outta words all’f ya Ameri’ans howmeny papers’ve I seen the ‘u’ outta flavour and labour and major,” he asked and stated all in a single breath.

“There’s no ‘U’ in major in any variation of English, Arthur,” I calmly pointed out to him, focusing on the road more than the blushing, hammered Briton in my passenger seat.

“Za’sn’t’da poin’!” he cried, words tumbling out of his mouth without distinction between syllables, slinking down into his seat. “Why d’ya call foo’ball ‘shoccer?’ What’da ‘shoccer’ ev’n meeaan?” Sometimes he’d be quiet for several moments, leading me to assume he had passed out until he randomly shouted, “Wha’s’da pooin’f bassebaalll? I’s nah ev’na proper sporuh!”

“Lot’s of people enjoy baseball just because it’s fun. There doesn’t have to be a point to a sport you know,” I commented, pulling into the parking lot of his apartment building, turning off the engine of my car.

“Shuup yer jus’s confusin’ as ice tea!” he interjected, falling against the closed door, tracing his finger messily over the plastic. “‘s disgus’in’ ya knooow I hade eh.”

“I know you do,” I muttered in response, getting out of the car. Jogging around to the other side before he could do anything stupid or vomit, I pulled his door open, unbuckling him as he continued his slurred rant. Helping him out only to have him practically fall on top of me, he muttered, “I shou’ve ya meee mah friends when we ge’up’tu’da fla’ ya’ll like’m.”

Regaining my balance, I allowed Arthur practically hang off of me, his arm slung around my neck and his other hand gripping my shirt. “I’d love to meet them, Art,” I confirmed, bringing a beam across his face.

“Za’s gu, Aaaallll,” he lilted, holding out the syllables of my shortened name. “Ya ‘ave sush a predy, predy name ya stupid Ameri’an boy,” he stated before laughing at himself or maybe something else. Just as I opened the door with his keycard, his second arm flew around my neck as he almost sent the two of toppling into the cement with an unexpected hug.

“What’cha doin’?” I asked, keeping my balance thanks to the door frame.

“Mmm huggin’ ya predy Ameri’an boy,” he drawled, laughing a tiny bit. The audible click of the door relocking was almost enough to make me groan. Not only did I have to try to get Arthur and I through the door with him hanging off of me, but I also had to do so while unlocking the door again.

“As much as I appreciate it, Arthur, can you stop real quick?” I asked him before explaining, “We kind of need to get into the building.”

“O’ay,” he muttered, arm falling from my neck as he flopped back into the support of the door. Pulling out the keycard to his apartment, I quickly swiped it through waiting for the click a few seconds later. Pushing the door open, I motioned for him to come too. In his drunken state, he stumbled forward, falling into me once again with one arm wrapping back around my neck and another wrapping around my waist.

“Yer mah bes’ friend, Aaalll,” he slurred in my ear, resting his head on my shoulder as I tried to lug him up the stairs. I murmured something similar back to him just before we completely toppled over onto the staircase. Hitting my head on the worn down, fake wood didn’t hurt much, it was more of Arthur landing on top of me with his elbow in my gut, winding me.

“Ow,” Arthur stated, sounding more dazed than hurt. Lifting himself up off of me with wobbly arms, he promptly fell face-first back into the stairs, laughing his head off. Nice to know he wasn’t hurt.

Using the railing to yank myself into a standing position, I grabbed Arthur’s arm and gently inquired with a chuckle, “You okay?”

Arthur allowed me to help him up as he giggled clearly, “I topped.”

“Alright,” I stated, with all the humour draining from my voice. Drunk people really know when to say the most inappropriate thing at the worse time.

He continued to cling to me as I hoisted him up the stairs, preventing him from falling over on several occasions. When we finally got up to his apartment, I was forced to dig through his pockets for his actual apartment key. As I did, he started giggling again, which I tried to ignore but in the end just couldn't.

"What's so funny this time?" I asked, looping a finger through the key ring as I found it.

"Eh dickles..." he murmured to me, his head resting still on my shoulders and a smile playing across his face. Accepting the answer, I scoured through the keys for a moment until I finally found the one labeled with his room number. Unlocking the door and pushing it open, I lead Arthur through the door.

"Le’s wash a mooviiie!" Arthur suggested, moving towards the couch.

"How about we do that tomorrow when you're not about to pass out."

"Mm nah gonna pass ouh!" Arthur objected with drooping eyelids. I just hummed in an unbelieving agreement as I propped open the door to his bedroom. Walking him in, I basically threw Arthur onto his bed before realizing that he wasn't letting go of me and was bringing me down on top of him. Catching myself on my elbows, my eyes widened as I came to realize that my face only inches from his. It took me a while to react to what was going on, my brain got a little distracted taking in the surroundings, the potent smell of alcohol on his breath, silvery white moonlight filtering through a few bent blinds, and, more specifically, Arthur.

"'Ello!" he cheerfully said with a grin, the light from outside illuminating some of his crooked teeth.

"Hi," I breathed in response, captivated suddenly. Beams of crystal light danced through the murky ponds of his eyes. Darker greens floating over the lighter like light filtering through tree leaves. Light coloured freckles and fading acne scars became barely visible on his skin, appearing to be so pale that it was practically porcelain. That smile, those pale pink lips, and, for a moment, I was tempted just to lean down and bring mine to them.

Slowly his hand came up, brushing along my cheekbone, skimming above my ear and glasses. Those long, ghostly fingers entwining themselves in my hair. And maybe even for a second our noses came within millimeters of bumping against each other. Almost. Just before I suddenly snapped into realization, pulling away and swinging my legs over the bed.

"I have to go," I told him in a mutter, standing up and starting towards the door. The bed creaked a bit as he sat up causing me to look back at him. Neither of us said anything at first, it took me a good minute to finally tear my gaze away from him and start heading out again. I had just walked out of his bedroom when I heard him finally pipe up.

“I love you.” The words came out clearly, not slurred or broken in anyway. Just three intelligible, innocent words that had been hiding in his thoughts for who knows how long. Turning around and resting a hand on the door frame, my gaze fell on his again for the third time in the last couple minutes. His eyes raking over me, trying to deduce a response all on their own.

With a sigh, I managed to mutter, “I love you too, buddy.” The corners of his mouth pushed upwards, wrinkling his cheeks and showing off that breathtaking smile that could make my insides melt. God, I hated that feeling. As much as I knew I wasn’t straight, I still couldn’t handle the fact that maybe my feelings towards Arthur weren’t 100% platonic.

As I walked out of his apartment, back down to my car, I recapped to myself every single possible feeling I had ever felt that could possibly mean I may have “liked liked” Arthur: the butterflies in my stomach sometimes when I saw him, how his smiles and laughs were enough to captivate me, how sometimes I would catch myself in the middle of class just thinking about him. I hated it. I hated it, I hated it, I hated it, I hated it. And I utterly enjoyed every single second of it and wouldn’t trade those moments for the world.

I hated that too.

In college, I had experienced some all too familiar feelings similar to those. The first time they had appeared it had been towards a guy who I ended up making out with a month later. His name was Nikolai and he had been the one to inform me on what the term “bisexual” was. We had never gotten together, he was still living with his parents and knew they would never approve of anything of the sort. I did, however, end up dating two people in college: a girl named Natalya and another guy named Daniel. Both had end up dumping me without giving me so much of a reason why.  

But Arthur was my friend. I had known him for about continuous five years and I _couldn’t_ like him romantically. At least that was what I wanted to believe.

Fate and the Universe always have different plans.

* * *

“All I’m saying is that it’s okay to let me pay,” I argued, trying to force my gaze to stay on the road.

“But _I_ was the one who recently got promoted, in case you’ve already forgotten, Alfred,” Arthur reiterated for about the fifth time.

“Dude, it’s okay to let me pay for stuff! I’m an adult! With a job!” I insisted though I didn’t mostly believe the “adult” part even at twenty-six.

“Yes you are an adult, an adult who’s paying rent and is living on a teacher’s salary!”

“That’s true, but I’m completely okay with spending money on what I want to spend it on. Plus now you can go out and have some extra cash to spend on actual important things,” I insisted, knowing that I was probably making a pretty weak argument.

Crossing his arms and huffing in irritation, Arthur mumbled, “Maybe you are important,” before loudly countering once again with, “Well your salary isn’t big enough to just go off and spend thirty dollars all in one sitting!”

I couldn’t really argue that movie theatre prices weren’t that expensive when they were pretty close to it. Besides, the only reason we were arguing was that I had decided to pay for all of it instead of breaking the bill 50/50 like we usually did. So in reality, it was all my fault that we were fighting in the first place.

Sighing as I pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, I looked over at him and stated, “Arthur, you don’t have to worry about my finances. That’s _my_ problem!” Getting out and slamming the door close, Arthur half-heartedly glared at me as I stepped out of the car as well.

As I stood up, walked around and leaned on the passenger side of the hood, he stated in an almost bored tone, “Just because you have money doesn’t mean you have to spend it. That’s why we’ve been splitting the bill every time we go out.”

Smirking suddenly, I just shook my head a bit and commented, “You make us sound like we’re a couple or something. We’re kind of fighting like one.”

With a single heart beat, his face flushed a light scarlet, contrasting with his eyes. “Shut up,” he commanded in mutter, bushy brows beetling.

“Make me,” I retaliated, staring at him with my arms unfolding. Our eyes locked for about half a second before his arms flew up around my neck, pulling me down as his lips came in contact with mine. After a half second of confusion, my eyes fluttered shut as my hands came to rest on his back. His lips dance across mine like fingers on piano keys, gentle and practiced, but at the same time electric and appearing almost clumsy. That time he took my breath away completely, forcing me to inhale deeply through my nose. His skin smelt like the tea he loved to drink and faintly of old book pages.

Breaking away from him for air, I felt his hands untangle themselves from my hair, trailing away from the back of my neck and shoulders. Getting the hint, I removed my hands from his back. Stepping back a bit after opening my eyes, my hand came up to scratch the back of my neck where his fingers used to be. Swallowing, he bit his lip and his eyes traveled down to our shoes.

“I didn’t know you were gay,” he commented, lip coming out of his mouth and his stare meeting mine.

“Bi, but I guess that doesn’t really matter,” I uttered, swallowing hard. _Damn, why am I so nervous?_ Arthur only nodded, not asking any questions or making another statement on the matter.

“Does this mean we’re a couple, now?” he questioned after a while, as if I would know any better than he would.

Shrugging a bit, I allowed a smirk to play across my lips as I stated, “Only if you want to be.” His bottom lip returned to its place between his teeth as his gaze rested back down on the pavement. A fragile silence began to settle in between us, leaving us with so many options that could either break it completely or ruin everything and let it stay.

My heart hammered in my chest as I removed my hands from my pockets and asked, “Do you want to go out next Friday?” Arthur’s stare flew up so fast, catching mine in their green gaze, that my next couple words almost got stuck in my throat. “A-as a date,” I clarified in a small voice, as my heartbeat became audible inside my skull.

A chuckle cut through all the noise in my head, as a smile was pulled across his soft, pink lips. “I’ll see you at five on Friday, don’t be late,” he told me with that stupid, cocky grin on his face as he started to move away from the car and towards the building.

“Oh,” I got out as his words slowly began to register. He said “yes.” I was going on a date with Arthur. “Okay!” I called to him, as it completely sunk in and I started getting in the car. “See you Friday!” I think he replied, he probably did, but by then I was already in the driver’s seat with the engine on.

As I pulled back out on to the street, I couldn’t help the grin from forcing itself across my face. I didn’t stop the flood gate of memories from falling open, letting that smile just grow.

It was funny how he had been my date to the prom nine years back and now I was _actually dating_ him. How we half-hid in the boys locker room, and awkwardly swayed along to Aerosmith was probably a fonder memory for me than it should have been, considering my girlfriend had been cheating on me. But I guess it was just my captivation with the way he grinned and laughed that night that suppressed the rest of it for me. The images of him smiling at me through the low-lights of the dance floor merged with those of him laughing so hard he could barely breath, snow clinging to his bangs, cheeks rosy. Oh how I became obsessed with seeing smiles Freshman year, to the point where I had even decided that was part of my answer...

Had I not been on the highway I would have stopped suddenly. _How long has it been now?_ I wondered, thinking to a stormy spring day back in 1995. Sitting there, fourteen years later, it was almost hard to believe just how much time had passed. I swore that I should have been longer. It couldn’t have only been fifteen years.

But more importantly, I probably should have started working towards that answer again.

Grandpa was still waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm trying to update regularly, and I get credit for that at least. 
> 
> First I'm going to quickly explain that "Devin" and "Mallory" are supposed to be unlucky names and that's pretty much the only reason that I included the name in this. 
> 
> Second, Alfred as a teacher is largely based off my Spanish teacher from last year, who actually did teach on table tops with a metre stick, minus the lab coat though...one of my science teachers actually used to do that all the time. I'm so unoriginal. But anyway, I tried to make Al one of the cool male teachers who wasn't weirdly awkward and that people actually, you know, like. So yeah, Teacher!Alfred is literally just a combination of my old Spanish and Science teachers. 
> 
> Also you're welcome. It finally happened. 
> 
> Alright, have a nice day! Thanks for reading!


	14. And I Love You

"Shit," I mumbled under my breath as I pulled into a parking space. The clock in my car read 5:03 which threw me into a panic even though it shouldn't have. It was several minutes fast though I didn't exactly remember by how many.

Sighing a bit as I got out of the car, I absentmindedly shook my hands as an attempt to calming my nerves. First dates always made me unreasonably paranoid and stressed, much to Matthew's entertainment. As I left I could just see him suppressing a giggle. In all honesty, it was probably more due to the fact that he shipped Arthur and I than it being entertaining watching me hop around the house half dressed.

It was actually kind of entertaining to watch _his_ reaction to the information.

"What're you smiling about?" he asked as he glanced up from his papers.

Shrugging off my jacket, I nonchalantly stated, "Arthur and I got in a fight." His gaze traveled back up to me, eye brows knit as though he were trying to see something without his glasses. Smiling a bit more, I continued, "But then we ended up making out and now we're going on a date next Friday." I shrugged for a second time as I flopped down on the couch next to him, just as he exclaimed, "What" and nearly jumped off of it.

"I said that we--"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard all of that. But you two are actually dating now?"

"Yeah?" I questioned, giving him a look and waiting for him to suddenly freak out or something. Which he did.

"I can't believe it! Oh my god, finally! You two finally got together!" he practically shouted, a smile tearing across his face. "I have shipped this since Middle School and it's finally happening!"

"Since when have you spoken like my students?"

"Since I got a Tumblr, Al." Unsure how to respond, I just shook my head, letting my bangs fall under my glasses a bit.

After a quiet minute, I got up off the couch to fetch my laptop. Sitting back down next to him, and mumbled, "I'm going to sign up for that." He just laughed.

Bringing myself back to the present where I was staring at Arthur's door, I almost brought myself to knocking. Almost. The second before I could, it suddenly flew open revealing a rather irritated looking Arthur.

"You're late," he stated, arms folded and brows furrowed. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._ My heart forgot it's one and only job of actually beating for a full second before picking up rapidly as if it were trying to make up for it.

"Oh shit, sorry, dude, I could have sworn I was on time and--" my rambling was suddenly cut off by Arthur stepping out and closing the door calmly behind him with a smile only beginning to pull at his lips.

"You're late by a minute, git," he cheerfully told me, smirking at me slightly. Heat creeped along my cheeks and I could tell my palms were beginning to become moist.

"O-oh," I stuttered, forcing a smile. "Well that's good...right?”

Arthur laughed a bit, shaking his head and starting down the hallway towards the stairwell.

Smirking back at me a bit, he asked, “What happened to your ever abundant confidence?”

Shrugging a bit, I kind of mumbled, “Heroes are allowed to be worried about things, ya know.” A chortle escaped from him as he descended down the dim stairs. Not that I was really complaining or anything, but it would have been a lot less work if he lived on the third or second floor instead of the fifth in a building that basically didn’t have an elevator. I was really beginning to hate the stairs.

“Tell me again why they haven’t fixed the elevator yet. This is beginning to feel like the Big Bang Theory,” I stated as I turned a corner and started down yet another flight of stairs.

“Because the landlord here is cheap and lazy,” he coolly replied behind me, not phased in the slightest about the long trek down the stairs. I just shrugged and continued the descent, resisting the urge to just slide down the handrail and knowing that I would probably get kicked out if I did.

After walking down the nth staircase, we finally reached the apartment building’s lobby and headed out to the parking garage. “So where are we going?” Arthur questioned, climbing into the passenger seat.

Pulling the seatbelt across my body, I gave him a smirk and a vague answer of, “It’s a surprise.”

“Shocker,” he sarcastically answered, probably expecting me to not tell him what was going on. Laughing at him a bit, I pulled out and started driving. Playing the “Guess Game” the entire drive, Arthur didn’t even start to get close to the actual answer until I actually pulled into a parking space and turned the engine off.

“No,” he said, holding the vowel out in disbelief. “No you did not just take us to a park meant for children.”

“I sure did, Artie!” I stated with a beam, unbuckling and getting out.

“Don’t call me that you, git,” he told me, brows beetling and arms crossing. He got out despite his own protests and willingly followed me over to the childless play structures. As I climbed up the metal ladder of a slide, he piped up again.

“You do realize that we’re both in our mid-twenties.”

“I realize, but reject that reality,” I answered, sitting on the edge and sliding down, landing a few feet away from him. He gave me an incredulous look as I grabbed his hand and started dragging him off towards a structure with several large plastic tubes and multiple slides.

“We’ve graduated from university!” he cried as I tugged him up the stairs, ducking under a short plastic roof.

“Good for us, still doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy these.”

He groaned a bit and muttered a, “You are absolutely hopeless.” It probably wasn’t something I was _supposed_ to hear, but it didn’t bother me nonetheless.

Eventually we had climbed all the way up to the tallest slide on the structure. Bowing slightly, I let him sit down in the tube first with a roll of his eyes. Smirking slightly, I called out, “Breaking the rules” before jumping in next to him, pulling us both down.

“Alfred!” he exclaimed, grabbing on to my shirt thanks to the sudden, unexpected start down the slide. Just as quickly as we started we stopped, the plastic tubing ending and giving way to the view of the wood chipped and notably brighter playground.

“Idiot,” he muttered, a smile threatening to stretch across his face.

“That I may be, but you agreed to be seen in public with me,” I stated, smirking at him. He huffed slightly, that smile still pulling at the corner of his mouth. Seeing my opportunity, I quickly dragged him on to another one, then another, and about three others before his grin appeared, followed along by some quick short laughs. It was probably due to the fact of how utterly ridiculous the whole thing seemed.

“We’re adults!” he argued with a chuckle as I grabbed his hand and started towards the slides on the other side of the park.

“There’s absolutely no point in growing up if you can’t be childish sometimes,” I stated with grin. My smile started to spread for a second before I deliberately tipped over onto my back into the grass.

“Al--” Arthur only half got out as I dragged him down with me. Landing partly on his side and partly on my chest, Art quickly pushed himself off of me and folded his arms over his chest as he laid in the grass next to me.

“You’re not being cute,” he stated after a moment, unamused and glanced over at me.

“Oh c’mon, Arthur,” I replied. “Stop being such a stick in the mud. Loosen up a bit and cloud watch with me. Besides, I’m a hero and would I ever let you get hurt?”

“I’m not a stick in the--”

“Shhh, just enjoy the moment,” I shushed him. He just huffed again. Maybe I just wasn’t all that great of a datemate. That could have easily been why my last two partners had dumped me. _You’re screwing this up_ , I told myself, folding my hands over my stomach and turning my gaze up to the puffy clouds above. My thoughts really weren’t helping the atmosphere between us.

After a moment or so, Arthur sighed, keeping his stare glued to the clouds, and stated, “Alfred, I apologize for being in a bad mood. It’s just kind of...difficult to wrap my head around the fact that this is actually happening.”

“What part of it?” I questioned, eyes darting over to him.

With a slight smirk he elaborated, “The fact that we’re actually here on a date. That I’m dating _you_.”

“What’s wrong with me?” I asked with a smile.

“Nothing. It’s just....nevermind,” he trailed off, focusing back up on the the collections of water vapor, dust and other particles above.

“Nah, man, spit it out,” I encouraged, a smile twitching at the side of my mouth.

Air escaped from his mouth in a sigh and he shook his head a bit. Just before I made an attempt at trying to get it out of him again, he quietly muttered with a shy grin, “You have no idea what I would have done for this Junior year.”

Randomly losing the ability to speak English, I just gawked at Arthur, my eyelids feeling as though they were stuck in my skull and heartbeat pounding in my ears. After a minute he carefully glanced over at me, eyes timidly meeting mine.

His gaze dropped a couple times before he finally got out, “Do you have something to say?”

I opened my mouth a couple times to reply, but only closed it again when sound didn’t come out. It took a moment, but eventually I managed to choke out a whispered, “I’m not sure how to respond.”

To that, he just simply let out a chortle and hushly stated, “Then don’t. And don’t stare at me like that!” So I didn’t. Instead I simply turned my eyes back up to the sky and twiddled my thumbs.

We stayed like that for a couple moments, watching the  clouds gradually roll over the never ending blue sky. After that brief period, Arthur gently stretched his leg over, tapping mine. “I only meant for you not to respond to my ridiculous confession, not stop talking all together.”

“But where’s the conversation supposed to go from there?”

“I don’t know you figure that out!”

“Why am I supposed to--”

“Just talk about the clouds,” he blurted out, cutting me off. “That’s why you dragged me down here in the first place.”

Biting my lower lip slightly and dragging my gaze away from his, I focused back up on the puffs above us, pointing to one and stating, “That one looks like a cat.”

Arthur didn’t reply and I didn’t continue for a while, but eventually I came up with that one looked like a bird. Finally then, he spoke up.

“So we have a cat and a bird. Then what?”

“Uh, what do you mean?”

Randomly, he kicked me again, shushing me a bit, pointing at the sky and saying, “There’s a cat and a bird, and they are riding on a bike.”

“Why?” I questioned, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Just shut up and go with it,” he respond gruffly, throwing a glance at me.

Smirking a bit, I rolled onto my side and told him, “Make me.”

Actually looking at me, he made eye contact with me before furrowing his eyebrows and then rolling his eyes. Swiftly he pressed a short-lived kiss to my lips before pulling back and staring back up at the sky.

After that, I went along with his idea of trying to incorporate all the cloud shapes into some big story. It ended up with the bird and the cat accidentally running a bunch of other animals over and having dispose of the bodies in multiple illogical ways. But in the end we were in tears from laughter.

Somewhere in the middle of all of that, the sun started setting, signaling it was probably time to start heading home. Getting back in the car, I fastened my seatbelt and asked Arthur, “So do you ever want to come back to the playground again.”

With a fairly dry laugh and a smile, Arthur firmly stated, “Not a chance.”

“Ah c’mon, it wasn’t that bad was it?”

After pondering for a moment, he shrugged a bit and said, “No, it wasn’t.”  

Matthew would later mock me about going to the playground, naming off a bunch of other places that I could have taken him. He didn’t actually stop until I told him to go out and get a datemate of his own. Laughing dryly, he sarcastically stated how funny I was before going to bed.

I didn’t get the chance to tell him about my answer.

 

* * *

 

My heart hammered in my chest as I carefully reached for the remote, pressing my thumb into the pause button. Arthur tore his eyes away from the stilled face of Daniel Radcliffe, giving me a perplexed look.

"I have something to ask you," I said quickly in a shaky voice.

Leaning away from me slightly, cocking an eyebrow and folding his arms, Arthur calmly told me to, "Spit it out."

"Well, uh..." I began, trying to level my voice. "As you're aware we've been dating for a couple years now and, uh..." Arthur just stared at me patiently, waiting for me to get to the point.

Swallowing hard, I stuttered out, "M-Matt and I finally s-saved up enough for one of the new houses in town and I was wondering if you wanted to move in with me?" The cat leaped from the bag, bounding across the room leaving dead silence in its wake.

Arthur's lips parted slightly, his eyes bouncing from the couch, to the television, to the floor to me as if he couldn't decide where was best to look.

"I-I know it's a little sudden, but we're moving in next week, so y-you don't have to answer right now," I muttered, my gaze not leaving him and my hand resting on the back of my neck.

Arthur just nodded slightly, gaze finally resting on the couch cushion between us. Gently, he reached up, brushing his bangs out of his eyes as they narrowed slightly and his nose scrunched up.

"I'll think about it," he said in an almost whisper, resting his back back on to the couch. I only nodded before pressing play again.

He went home shortly after the movie ended.

 

“Hello?” I mumbled groggily into the phone. It was five in the morning and even though I was getting up for work anyway, it still felt way too early to be awake without dying a bit on the inside.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Arthur asked gently, sounding almost half asleep himself.

“No, I was supposed to be getting up anyway,” I yawned, pulling on my pants. “I’m just wondering why you’re up so early.”

Arthur went quiet for a moment to the point where I was wondering whether or not I had accidentally hung up on him. A swift sigh escaped from his end and he elaborated, “I just wanted to catch you before work because I need to ask you something.”

“Yeah what’s up?” I questioned, holding my cellphone between my shoulder and head, as I attempted at getting my shirt on.

“Does your offer on moving in still stand?”

 

* * *

 

The metre stick hit the projector screen with startling **_thwack_**. A couple kids jumped in surprise as I started the lesson.

“Assuming you all were skimming over the chapter like I told you to, who here can briefly explain why the siren on a fire truck is quieter when it’s farther away from us, but louder when closer.”

Several hands flew up. Pointing to a kid in the back, they quickly answered, “The Doppler Shift.”

“Good. Now does anyone care to read to the class what the definition of that is. It’s on page two--”

The classroom telephone started ringing, cutting off my sentence. Glancing at it quickly, I hurriedly finished, “On page two-hundred sixty-seven.” Allowing the students to start flipping through their text books, I hopped off the desk grabbing the phone.

“No homework to whomever stays quiet,” I stated before bringing the receiver up to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, Alfred, it’s me and I’m calling from work so I have to make this quick,” Arthur whispered in a single breath. Before I could even begin to comprehend of what he might even be calling about, he murmured in a giddy voice, “I just got the reply back and it went through. First meeting is next month, then in December we’ll get to take him home. Al, they’re actually letting us adopt him.”

“What?” was all I could manage to get out.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. Love you.” And with that he hung up. Gently hanging up my phone as well, I met the eyes of the class.

“What was that all about?” one of the boys shouted out, not bothering to raise his hand or anything. Brushing my bangs back a little, a smile tore across my face as the reality slowly started setting in.

“Well, in about two months I’m adopting a kid.”

A stunned silence started settling over the students before the shout of, “You’re married” ripped through it.

“What’s up with you guys and just shouting out questions today?” I wondered before shaking it off a bit and continuing with, “And also, no, I’m not married.”

Raising her hand first, Roxanne blurted out, “So you’re single and adopting a kid by yourself?”

“Again, no, I am not single and I am not married, but yes I am adopting a kid,” I clarified for them all, hoping that would end their questions so I could get back to the lesson. It did for a while so I took the opportunity to lift myself back on to the front desk, just before I was interrupted again.

“Are you gay?” Greg basically shouted at me across the room.

Sighing a bit, I just stated, “That’s unimportant. Anyway, we left off at the Doppler Shift. Does anyone have the definition for that out of their book?”

The day blew by like that. Classes randomly asking me more and more questions about my personal life as the word got around, and me giving them the same vague answers and trying to just get on with the lesson. By sixth hour I unfortunately had had to send a couple hours home with homework just because we didn’t get through the lesson. I probably should have been working on trying to control them at least a bit.

I came home to Matthew sitting on the couch, XBox controller in hand and eyes glued to the TV. “Hey, Matt,” I called to him from the front door. He answered in something that almost sounded like English.

“I got some good news,” I told him, walking up from behind.

“Uh huh,” he uttered, not even glancing at me. Sighing a bit I reached down and pressed a button to pause his game. His head whipped around to look at me so fast, I was a bit worried his neck might snap.

“I said that I have some good news and I actually want you to listen to it.”

“Okay, fine,” he muttered, turning around so he was sitting backwards on the couch looking up at me.

Smiling a bit, I stated, “The adoption went through. But on a side note, oh my god Matt, I barely know how to adult, how am I going to parent?”

Staring at me for a moment, Matthew calmly began, “It’s going to be alright. Don’t freak yourself out too much,” before losing the facade completely and fangirling. “Oh my god, oh my god, you’re actually going to have a kid. Oh my goodness. Does Arthur know? What are you going to name him even? Is this house even child proof?”

“Well, it isn’t right now,” I started, not sure where to begin with his bombardment of questions. “Arthur was the one who told me, so I’m fairly certain he knows, but we haven’t talked over names yet and I have no idea where to begin with any of it.”

“Call Mom, she’ll probably at least give you a place to start.”

 _Shit, I almost forgot to tell her,_ I thought, thanking Matt and walking off into another room to make the call while he started his video game backup. Dialling in her number quickly, I listened to it ring a couple times before Mom basically shouted into my ear, “It has been _two weeks_ , young man! No visit, no call, no _nothing!_ Have you _forgotten_ about your dear sweet mother who _raised_ the two of you? _By herself_ might I add. At least Matthew had the _decency_ to call me the other day!”

“Hi, Mom,” I stated with a smile, knowing she was feigning being upset.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said cheerfully back. “What’s the haps? What’s shaking? How’s school going?”

“School’s going great, but I have news for you.”

“No, you are not allowed to move to California to get married to Arthur. That’s too far away,” she said suddenly without any hesitation.

“Mom that’s not what I’m calling about.”

“Good. Now what’s on your mind, sweetie?”

Taking in a quick breath, I quickly got out before she could interrupt, “Arthur and I are adopting a kid and we’re bringing him home in two months and I don’t know how to be a parent.” Her end went silent for a whole three seconds before the most earsplitting, bloodcurdling squeal erupted from it.

“I’m going to be a grandma?” she shouted at me through the phone. “Sweetheart, this is fantastic! I can’t believe they’re _actually_ letting you adopt! I know there’s a lot of homophobes through the adoption system--but oh my goodness, _I’m_ actually going to be a grandmother!”

“Yeah, but Mom, like, where on earth am I supposed to start with any of this?”

“Make sure Arthur doesn’t have commitment issues and won’t ditch you for some other skinny ginger that looks good in lingerie, that’s where _I_ went wrong.” Static filled in the silence between us, as I struggled to come up with a response.

“Sorry, sweetie,” she muttered after a moment. “Well, you mentioned a while back that he’s only seven months so, do you have a name picked out yet. What about clothes? You’ll definitely need a bed. I can text you a list and you can go shopping this weekend.”

“Y-yeah, okay. Thanks, Mom,” I mumbled to her, still trying to recover from her previous statement. Before she could continue, I heard the door open and took it as an opportunity to escape. “Alright, I have to get going. Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetheart. Tell Arthur and Matt that I said, ‘Hi.’”

“I will,” I told her before hanging up. A few seconds later, I found Arthur staring at me from the doorway.

“So does this mean we’re parents now?” I asked with a smirk.

A smile played across his lips, crinkling the edges of his eyes. Walking towards me and wrapping his arms around my neck, he stated, “Only if you want to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Romance!  
> So here's the chapter of extreme progress and this all happens in 2009-2012 ish, not much is spoken about in that amount of time and I apologize. But hey, you finally got more of an answer to why Matt and Al's father left. I will state that their parents got married at a really young age, so their father was already having some...issues before Al was conceived, but they "worked some of them out" before he was born, so it was all hunky dory before Matt was conceived and somewhere in there he just couldn't take it anymore and ditched them.   
> I want to get the last chapter out pretty soon, but I'm working all this week minus Christmas day so we'll have to see if it comes out before New Years, because I'm working the week before then too. I'm gonna try though guys.  
> Happy Holidays! Thanks for reading! I wish you all well!


	15. The Reason for the World

After scanning the mass of short frames and smiling, chubby faces, I held out a hand and grinned as my favourite tiny human ran up to me. “Dada!” Andy called out, ignoring my hand and plowing into my legs with a hug. 

“Hey, bud,” I greeted cheerfully as he pulled away and grabbed on to a couple of my fingers. “How was preschool?”

“We learnt a new letter today!” he exclaimed excitedly as we started out the door and into the parking lot. 

“Oh really, and what letter would that happen to be?” I asked with a smile as I pulled out my keys and unlocked the car. 

“Zed! But Mrs. Dianna called it ‘zee’ and I told her that Uncle Matthew said it was actually called ‘zed’ but she kept saying it was called ‘zee.’” he told me, exasperated, as I started buckling him in. 

Laughing a bit, I ruffled his dark brown hair and said, “Well they’re both right. It really just depends on where you learnt English, bud. Most people around here say ‘zee,’ okay?”

Instead of answering, Andy simply scrunched up his nose and looked at me as though I was speaking Spanish again....not that I did that on a regular basis in an attempt for him to pick up the basics that I was fluent in. 

Through nurture rather than nature, Andy had managed to inherit my dislike of quiet. “We read a fairytale today about a brave knight that saved a princess from an evil dragon,” he stated, staring at me through the rearview mirror. “But Jacob, Liliana and me also got to tell about how sometimes knights are girls and they have to save princes instead. Liliana said that sometimes girl knights still save princesses and that boy knights can save princes as well.”

“That’s exactly right,” I told him as I put on my turn signal and started to check for oncoming traffic. When I glanced back up at him, Andy was grinning and swinging his feet. 

“I played with them today on the playground. We were space explorers and we had rocket ships that were powered by stardust! Jacob and I almost had to save Liliana from an evil, green space monster, but she told us that she could save herself and she did! Liliana is really cool.”

He paused for a moment, scrunching up his nose and continued on a different train of thought. “Dada, did you know that even though I’m a big kid now that I’m still really small compared to all of the universe?”

Glancing up at him through the rearview mirror, I asked, “Where’d you learn that from?”

“Papa Francis,” Andy replied simply, smiling at me still. 

Shaking my head slightly, I muttered, “Should have figured” under my breath as I pulled into the driveway.

Turning off the engine and hopping out of the car, I got Andy out of the back and walked him into the house. Out of habit, he sat down in the middle of the living room, waiting for me to take his shoes off, which I did after taking off my own. Untying his shoelaces, I started loosening them so I could pull the first shoe off his foot better.

“Hey Dada, I have a riddle for you.”

“What is it?” I asked, setting his shoe aside.

“There’s a reason for the world,” he said expectantly, looking at me with big, wide, almost-black eyes. I paused over his left shoe, fingers still fumbling with the laces. After a second, I gently pried it off his foot and looked back up at him. 

“Kid, when you get right down to the reason for the world, who am I?”

No puzzlement crossed Andy’s face at all, as he beamed up at me and yelled without hesitation, “You’re the hero!” Quickly jumping to his feet, he tackled me to the ground with a hug.

Pulling away and sitting on me, he continued, “And Dad is a writer, and Uncle Matthew is the Animal Man!” He stopped for a moment to think something over, before going on with, “And Papa Francis is a lover, not a fighter.  _ Onkle _ Gilbert is a Roboto.  _ Tío _ Toni is tomatoes!” He laughed at himself, sliding off of me and plopping down on the floor next to me. Sitting up slightly so I was supporting myself on my forearms, I listened to him as he continued to ramble. “And Uncle Kiku makes cartoons. Uncle Matthias is crazy just like Uncle Jett who is Animal Man Two!” He laughed at himself some more, apparently finding something in his words humorous. 

Sitting up all the way, I ruffled his hair a bit and told him, “Yeah, bud, good job. That’s the most that I can tell you about your riddle there. There isn’t one answer, there’s multiple and everyone has their own answer.”

“Oh,” he breathed, thinking it over in his head, eyebrows scrunching together. 

The door to the garage creaked open, and Arthur looked at the two of us. “Am I interrupting something?” he questioned, cocking a bushy eyebrow.

“Dad!” Andy exclaimed, leaping to his feet and wrapping his arms around Arthur’s legs. 

Smiling as I watched Arthur sit down his stuff and lift Andy into the air, resting him on his side to ask him questions on his day, I couldn’t help realize just how wonderful my small family was, as cliché as it sounds. The four of us weren’t much, a science teacher, a journalist, an evolutionary biologist, and a three-almost-four year-old, but we were as much as I could have ever asked for, and I was glad they were the greatest good I was  _ ever _ going to get.

It was the spring of 2015, Grandpa had been dead for two decades to the day, and I finally had an answer for him: I was a hero. I had had my answer since the age of eleven, it just took me to figure out exactly what it meant. There are the heroes everyone knows about, the people who run into burning buildings to get people out, or put themselves in harm’s way to protect other, or just save lives in some other way. The ones that get recognized, get press coverage. Then there are the everyday heroes, those who make others happy and help when they know they’re needed. Everyday heroes that shine in the eyes of many, or the eyes of a few, but that doesn’t make them any less of a hero. 

And that is exactly who I am, a hero. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Here's a present from me to you! (Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it)  
> I really hope you all enjoy Andy! I left his description fairly open for y'all's interpretation, and just ask and/or credit me if you want to use him in one of your works (fanfic, fanart, headcanons, RPing???). But yay! Child! Who also watches Thomas Sanders' vines if you didn't catch that.  
> Thank you, all of you, who have taken the time to read this, I appreciate it. Thank you to those who have subscribed since the beginning or have just followed recently. Thank you to all of those who have left me a kudos. Big thanks to those who have left comments as I always love hearing from you guys about anything! Thank you thank you thank you! All of you are fantastic and thank you for sticking with me through this. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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